


Make It Bleed

by ourloveisgod



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Blood, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:45:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 140,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7522489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourloveisgod/pseuds/ourloveisgod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhett McLaughlin, a high school drama teacher with a life more than a little safe and boring, bites off more than he can chew when he meets a man with a vampire fetish in a bar. Lincoln, the mysterious and gorgeous stranger, can't possibly be a real, live (scratch that- undead) vampire...can he? </p>
<p>With a school play to run, a best friend who thinks Rhett might be a little smitten, and a wannabe vampire to keep in check, the life Rhett knew gets turned upside down. And when monsters descend on the city he calls home, Rhett has to admit one thing: monsters are real. And his boyfriend might just be one of them. </p>
<p>Written for the rhink summer ficathon; the 'mythical creature' six week prompt. I hope this fits the bill nicely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

Rhett McLaughlin wakes up with glitter in his eyelashes and something sticky and strawberry scented on his cheeks. The radio alarm clock on the nightstand is all he can see, the time displayed in flashing red. It reads 10:12 A.M. but the room is dark as the middle of the night. And he has no idea where he is. He was at a nightclub last night, the kind of place he goes only if he needs something, be it vodka or company or sex. He swipes his fingers across his cheeks and grimaces. Okay, so it was the latter he wanted last night if the lube slicked across his face is any indication. Great. His head pounds as he shifts in a stranger’s bed, blinking as he tries to find some light. He remembers drinking absinthe and he remembers a man who enthralled him; Rhett told him he looked like he belonged in a vampire flick from the 80’s, all spiked leather jacket and ass kicking boots. He had red glitter dabbed above his Cupid’s bow and Rhett supposes that explains the glitter sparkling across all he can see. 

Rhett’s wandering hand finds a lamp beside the bed and he flicks it on. And all at once the person sleeping beside him bursts into motion. They hiss like a cat and roll over, punching the lamp off the nightstand with one hand and pinning Rhett to the bed by his chest with the other. The lamp goes out with a pop and a tinkling of glass and plunges the room again into total darkness before Rhett even has time to get his bearings. 

“Hey, what the hell!” Rhett cries, but the person slaps a cold hand over his mouth and leans in close, body tense. Rhett remembers flashes of last night, of rough teeth sucking marks into his throat and of silk scarves binding him to the headboard. This person likes to take control and they are no different in the morning, holding Rhett stiffly to the bed with no regard to how goddamn heavy they are. “Let up, will you?”

“Why did you turn the light on?” The shadow pinning Rhett down dons a deep voice, gruff and gravelly. Rhett doesn’t have to see him to decide this is definitely the man from the nightclub, the one who bought him shots of neon green liquor until Rhett began to laugh at everything he said. Even when he asked Rhett if he was afraid of monsters and said, “Good, because I am one,” when Rhett told him he was not. That made Rhett laugh like a goddamn hyena, doubling over until he crashed onto his ass on the floor. It’s a miracle Rhett managed to seduce anyone like that, giggling like an idiot. 

The man from the nightclub presses down harder on Rhett’s chest and he finally gives him an answer. “Because I wanted to see the man I conquered last night.” 

The man chuckles. “Conquered?” he asks. “I wouldn’t call anything you did last night _conquering_.” He rolls off Rhett and he takes in a deep breath, ribs aching from the weight of the man’s body. Rhett watches the vague shadow of him roll over and drag the comforter up over his head like a kid afraid of the dark. In his case, however, it looks like he hides from the morning sun. “Stop staring at me and go back to sleep,” he says. “Wake me up at 6:53.”

“What’s 6:53?” Rhett asks.

“Sunset, you idiot. Now either get under the covers with me and let me get at that beautiful throat of yours or get out and let me sleep in peace.” Rhett contemplates for a moment, as if the foggy memory of the way the man’s lips felt on Rhett’s neck is not enough to get him to stay. In the end he dives into a sea of blankets and lets the man from the club catch him up in his arms. His bare chest is just as icy as his hands. 

“What’s your name, sunshine?” Rhett asks him. His nose brushes Rhett’s and then moves down his jaw. He nuzzles his way to Rhett’s throat and heaves a sigh, low and shuddery.

“Lincoln,” he breathes. “I’m Lincoln.” His tongue is the only warm part of him as he licks and nips at Rhett’s neck, humming a song that’s closer to a moan than a tune. 

“I’m Rhett,” Rhett says, and Lincoln chuckles against the thrumming vein in Rhett’s neck. 

“I know,” he replies. “You told me a thousand times. Made me spell it back to you just in case I forgot.” His teeth rasp at Rhett’s skin as he smiles. “R-H-E-T-T. Don’t worry, love. I didn’t forget.” 

“Good,” Rhett manages. “That’s good.” Rhett reaches for him, untangling his arms from the blankets, and he fists dark hair in both hands. The moan Lincoln lets out in response is almost guttural, deep and dark. Rhett pulls harder and he reacts with his whole body, drawing Rhett closer and digging sharp fingernails into the base of his spine. He mouths hungrily at the hollow of Rhett’s throat and he cries out in pain.

“Jesus, you have sharp teeth,” Rhett says. 

“You act like you’ve never met a vampire before,” Lincoln replies. 

“Oh, you’re a vampire, are you? That explains the…ow! The tendency to bite, then.” 

“That it would, Rhett. You’re a quick learner.” He clutches Rhett tight, sucking love bites into his skin. Despite how good it feels, his tongue lapping at Rhett’s throat, he gathers up a little bit of common sense and tells him he has work. “So?” Lincoln asks.

“So I can’t have…ung.” Lincoln has the nicest mouth Rhett has ever encountered in his life. Rhett writhes under his lips, under his teeth, and he completely loses his train of thought. Lincoln chuckles and reminds him.

“You can’t have what?” he asks. 

“Uh, I can’t have bruises all over my neck. I’ll never hear the end of it.” 

“Let your friends be jealous, then, that you have met someone who admires your throat so deeply.” Lincoln’ teeth rasp against Rhett’s throat and he makes a low noise of contentment when Rhett moans. He hates to think of the condition his neck will be in when he finally gets to take a look but right now Rhett feels limp, complacent in Lincoln’ arms. He wouldn’t move away for the world. 

“’Kay,” Rhett’s says smartly. He can feel Lincoln smile against his skin.

“This might hurt a little,” Lincoln breathes, sharp fingernails grazing Rhett’s back. 

“Gimme all you’ve got,” Rhett replies. And Lincoln does. He bites down hard on the side of Rhett’s neck and he feels his skin give way. He is biting Rhett- actually freaking _biting_ him- and as his teeth break skin he lets out a whine. 

“Ah,” he breathes. He laps at Rhett’s throat with his tongue like an animal and Rhett has had enough. 

“What the hell are you _doing_?” he asks. He wants to feel horrified, scared out of his mind that this wannabe vampire is trying his best to suck his blood, but instead Rhett feels sluggish. He feels soft. In slow motion he pulls away from Lincoln, shoving him away by his chest and coming up out of the blankets gasping for air. Lincoln emerges with him from the cocoon and he watches Rhett, bemused, as he slaps a hand to the side of his neck.

“You’re going to make it bleed more by messing with it,” Lincoln says lazily. “You might even bleed out. I’d be careful if I were you.” Rhett pulls his fingers away from his throat and holds them before his eyes. It’s dark in here, way too dark, and Lincoln chuckles as Rhett staggers his way to the bathroom. “Shut the door before you turn on the light, will you?” he calls. Rhett obeys. He wants to get as much between himself and Lincoln as he can, anyway, and he locks the bathroom door and turns on the light. 

Rhett’s reflection is blurry, his eyes straining in the bright light, and he has to lean close to the mirror to check the damage to his throat. Again Rhett hears Lincoln chuckle as he screams. He counts the bruises on his neck in shades of sickly yellow and purple and red, dotting from just under his jaw to his chest. He loses count at thirteen when he catches sight of the puncture wound in the side of his neck. 

“Shit,” he breathes. The man from the club has killed him. He’s really killed him. Rhett’s gone home with a psychopath and now there are two tiny dots in the middle of his throat, blood oozing from the holes to collect in his collarbones. “Shit, shit.” 

“You have quite the dirty mouth, don’t you?” Lincoln asks from the bedroom. His voice is husky, slow and heavy with want, and Rhett knows the sound well. He wants to eat Rhett alive. Not if Rhett can help it. He slaps a washcloth over the holes in his throat, holding it down hard to stem the flow of scarlet blood, and he rips open the bathroom door to shout at the stranger in his bed.

“You evil bastard!” he shouts. “I’m going to sue you! You can’t just go biting people because you have a fetish, man! Hell, I should have known by the way you were dressed last night that you were one of those…”

“One of what?” Lincoln asks. Rhett’s eyes adjust to the dark of Lincoln’s room to find him hiding under the covers, the light from the bathroom illuminating a massive bed. Four silk ties in different shades of red hang loosely from the four bedposts, the massive iron headboard casting shadows on the wall behind it. In the center of the bed there is a man shaped lump, under a heavy layer of animal hide blankets, and Rhett snaps angrily at it. 

“One of those weirdos who get off on pretending to be a vampire!” Rhett shouts. “You know you could have killed me, right? I’m going to need your name and number so I can sue the shit out of you for my medical bills after I get back from the hospital!” 

“One of those…” Lincoln says, bewildered. “What do you mean, pretend?” He sounds deeply insulted and if Rhett wasn’t so scared he would laugh. He’s one of those, the ones so deep in he’s started to think he’s actually a bloodsucking fiend, and Rhett has to get out of here before he dies of blood loss on the blood red carpet. At least Lincoln has a flair for making his home look the part. 

“Will you stop hiding from me and get out here so you can drive me to get stitches?” Rhett asks.

“No need,” the Lincoln sized lump replies. “Get back in bed. I can stop the bleeding for you.”

“I’m not getting anywhere near you.” Rhett wavers where he stands and puts more pressure on his gaping throat wound, already dizzy from the slick of blood. 

“At least turn off the light so I can come out and come to you,” Lincoln says. 

“Turn off the…you think I’m going to turn off the light so you can attack me? Tie me up again and drink all my blood? Yeah, funny!”

“I’m not trying to be funny, Rhett. I can come out and stop the bleeding for you with the light on but I’m warning you, I won’t be happy about it.”

“Funny! Well I’m warning you, Lincoln, that if you take one step closer to me I’m going to…to…” Rhett looks around the bathroom for a weapon, for something to attack with, and the largest thing he finds is a porcelain soap dish sitting on the marble counter. He scoops it up and holds it in both hands, testing the weight. “I’ll kill you!” Rhett finishes.

“Brave words for a man who’s shaking so hard I can hear your knees from here.” Lincoln lowers the blankets from over his head, first a messy tuft of deep black hair poking out and then a narrowed pair of steely blue eyes. “That light really hurts. Could you please just turn it off for me? You look about ready to pass out and I really don’t feel like babysitting you today.”

“Come turn it off yourself!” Rhett replies. He holds the soap dish out before him like a cross, trying to warn this crazy person off, but Lincoln is out of bed with his hand on the light switch before Rhett has time to inhale. 

“Fine,” he says. The room goes dark and Rhett’s soap dish shatters on the floor as Lincoln slams him into the wall. “Hold still, you whiny little idiot.” Lincoln doesn’t give Rhett much choice; he takes hold of his jaw with one hand and turns his head to expose the wounded side of his neck. “If you listen to me this won’t hurt at all. Are we clear?”

“We’re clear,” Rhett replies. He waits for the feel of Lincoln’s mouth, for the heat of his tongue, and when it comes his knees go weak. Lincoln laps at the holes he made with his teeth, sucking gently, his free hand pinning Rhett to the wall by his shoulder. If he wasn’t afraid he would be drooling. For a second Rhett can imagine why he likes this, pretending to be a monster. It’s sort of hot, really, the way he presses Rhett to the wall, the way the motion of his tongue makes him woozy. His hands are icy and Rhett want to ask him how he does that, keeping his skin cool as part of his façade. Rhett imagines ice packs stuffed under his mattress and he almost laughs, giddy from a hot, wet tongue on his skin. 

“What’s so funny?” Lincoln asks. 

“I didn’t laugh,” Rhett replies.

“Ah, but you were going to.” Lincoln draws away, a dot of Rhett’s blood in the center of his plump lower lip, and a crazy impulse tells Rhett to lick it off. Rhett ignores the insane part of his brain fogged by Lincoln’s talented mouth and waits for Lincoln to release him. Instead he wipes at Rhett’s neck with his hand, leaning close to examine it, and he smiles wickedly in the meager light coming from under the window shade. “You’re all set. No medical attention necessary. Are you calm now?”

Rhett nods.

“Good. It’s my venom, you see. It makes my victims compliant, dazed. How do you feel?”

“Uh,” Rhett replies. “Compliant.” He blinks and watches as Lincoln licks up the blood on his lip and runs his tongue across his canine teeth. “Dazed.”

“I thought so.” He turns away from Rhett, dropping to his knees on the carpet to scoop up broken glass from his lamp. It takes Rhett a long moment to find his tongue and speak.

“Why did you break it?” Rhett asks.

“You startled me. I’m highly sensitive to changes in light. I need to be to stay alive, you see.” The shadow of him shrugs on the floor as he picks glass from the carpet with careless hands. 

“Aren’t you scared of getting cut?” Rhett wishes he could go to him, get a closer look, but he feels sick and he uses the wall for support to avoid crashing to his ass on the floor.

“Glass couldn’t hurt me,” Lincoln replies. “Do you really not know anything about vampires? I refuse to accept you haven’t at least seen one vampire movie. Not that they’re entirely accurate, but it would give you _some_ thing.” 

“Lost Boys,” Rhett says. “I’ve seen Lost Boys. That’s why I picked you, back at the nightclub. You reminded me of one of them.”

Link picks up on Rhett’s choice of words and his bare shoulders shake as he laughs. “You chose me? That’s funny. I chose you.” He stands, dumping broken glass onto his nightstand and brushing shards from his fingers. Rhett strains his eyes to see Lincoln better but it doesn’t help. It’s too dark in here, like the middle of the night. 

“Why did you choose me, then?” Rhett can humor him. Rhett definitely chose him, catching his eye from across the room and jerking his head to call Lincoln over. He came, after all, so surely that means Rhett did the choosing. 

“You’re cute,” he shrugs. “In an innocent sort of way. Also, I like the whole bearded lumberjack look you’ve got going on. I rarely get to sink my teeth into someone like you. Of course, you proved me wrong with the whole innocent and pure look in your eye. You really know your way around a cock.” He grins, teeth flashing, and Rhett loses control of his legs and tumbles to the floor. He should have known it was only a matter of time; Lincoln makes him feel weak without even trying. He looks down at Rhett, hands at his narrow hips, and Rhett gets the feeling this is going to be fun if he chooses to stick around. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Rhett replies, and he can’t believe he’s going to stay. Lincoln bit Rhett, drawing blood, and not only did he lick it up; he liked it. But he’s gorgeous, cocky and sharp, and if curiosity is going to kill Rhett he might as well enjoy it. 

“Yeah?” he asks. 

“Yeah.”

Lincoln offers Rhett one hand and he takes it. He drags Rhett to his feet and holds him flush against his icy body, arms effortlessly strong. Lincoln stands a whole head shorter than Rhett but their difference in stature does nothing to intimidate him. 

“Tell me, Rhett, have you ever been sucked off by a vampire before?”

“Nope.”

“Well, you’re about to be.” 

 

“He did _what_ to you?!” Stevie Levine shrieks over a steaming mug of tea in the teacher’s lounge. The gym teacher and an algebra teacher deep in conversation raise their eyebrows at her from across the room and when they look away Stevie sticks her tongue out at them. While her back is turned Rhett tugs his collar up closer to his chin. 

“He bit me,” Rhett replies. “Like, a lot. A lot a lot, actually.” 

“And you _let_ him? And you _liked_ it?” The other teachers glance at Rhett and he tells Stevie to talk a little quieter, for Christ’s sake. But she’s excited and once she gets riled up it takes a miracle to get her to quiet down. 

“Yeah,” Rhett replies. “I liked it. He was just really good with his mouth, like obscenely good.” Rhett picks apart a napkin, his best friend’s eyes all over him, and he thinks desperately of any way to change the subject. Stevie may be an open book but Rhett is not; if she didn’t hear from one of Rhett’s drama students that he came to class covered in poorly concealed love bites he wouldn’t have told Stevie at all.

“Are you going to see him again?” 

“I dunno,” he replies. He doesn’t even know if he wants to see Lincoln again- the man did draw blood, after all. But Stevie asks for details and somewhere in the midst of describing the sharp angles of his jaw Rhett gets lost. She beams, mischievous, and tells Rhett he better see him again. He’s glowing, she says. She’s never seen Rhett so satisfied, she says, so lost in his own head. And maybe she’s right. Rhett can hardly believe he’s upright after the night he had, can hardly believe he’s coherent with glitter still stubbornly sticking to his cheeks and beard. 

“If you do see him again, make sure you tell him even though you’re tenured you can’t afford to be covered in bruises,” Stevie advises. Rhett rolls his eyes at her and tells her he will be sure to do just that. Satisfied he’s divulged all the details he is willing to give, Stevie launches into the story of her weekend, telling Rhett all about the trip she took her students on. She’s a saint, Stevie is, and she took her art classes out to paint a mural in the soup kitchen across town. She tells Rhett about two of her students she always puts together because they definitely have the hots for each other. As the director of the school’s production of Beauty and the Beast, they just so happen to be two of Rhett’s cast members, too. 

“Ooh,” Stevie squeaks, clapping her hands together in glee as Rhett gives her the news. “Promise me you’ll make them work together a bit! Make them paint sets or something! One of them just has to be brave enough to make the first move and I just _know_ they’d be the best couple ever.” Rhett is so relieved to have the focus off him for a moment he agrees to it.

“For the record,” he says as they gather up their lunchboxes to get back to class, “it’s definitely Amelia who has to make the first move. Ian may act cocky on stage but he has the bravery of a field mouse.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, soldier,” Stevie replies, and she gives Rhett a salute and tosses her long blonde braid over her shoulder as she walks away. She has white and pink paint in her braid and Rhett lets her go without telling her. She would say it’s serendipitous, anyway; she would laugh and say she meant to do it. She’s a character, Rhett’s best friend. He waves goodbye to her and right before she steps around a corner and vanishes from sight she calls for Rhett’s attention and mimes a violent vampire attack.

“Funny!” he calls, and he hears her keening hyena laughter all the way back to his room. 

 

“Mr. McLaughlin, can I ask you something?” Rhett drops his hands from directing the set designers onstage and tells Amelia to get on with it. Rhett’s Belle looks like she is about to burst into laughter and he doesn’t have time for her to dither; she has to be encased in yellow tulle in half an hour for her dress fitting. “Did you lose a fight with a vacuum cleaner or did you finally get some?”

Shit. He claps a hand over his throat and shoos her away but the damage is done. She dissolves into giggles and asks Rhett again if he’s gotten any, prodding him with one finger. He is nothing if not open with his drama students but it’s really none of her business whether he’s getting laid or not. Still, his seniors have a running bet on how long it’s been, judging by the way he dresses and the way he holds himself. He could kill them if they weren’t always exactly right. It’s good for them, anyway, to learn to read body language in people, and if they learn by using Rhett then at least he can teach them _something_. 

Amelia takes hold of Rhett’s arm and drags him to the side of the auditorium stage, ushering his class over with her free hand. 

“Mr. McLaughlin got laid!” she cries, and Rhett’s Gaston and Maurice drop what they’re doing and drop to their knees on the edge of the stage. 

“Tell us everything,” Adam Ryan says, using his commanding Gaston voice that’s easily three octaves lower than his own. 

“What did she look like?” Rhett’s Maurice, Trevor Benson says. Something must show in his face because Amelia Banks claps her hands over her mouth and says,

“It was a boy!” 

“A boy?!” 

“What about a boy?” Rhett’s Lumiere calls from backstage, and Amelia shrieks,

“Mr. McLaughlin finally got some and it was with a _boy_!” 

“Did you even _try_ to cover these up?” Rhett’s Mrs. Potts asks, tugging down the collar of his button down shirt as Ian, his Lumiere, pokes his head out from backstage with his mouth open wide.

“No, Heather, I wanted you all to know everything about my sex life!” Rhett replies. “Of _course_ I tried to cover them up! You have no idea how bad it looked before I woke up two hours early to try and look presentable for you cretins!” 

“We’re not the ones covered in hickeys, now are we, Mr. McLaughlin?” Amelia laughs. 

“Yeah, who are you calling cretins?” Adam adds. In his indignation he drops his Gaston voice and Rhett buries his face in his hands as the cast of Rydell High School’s Beauty and the Beast prod Rhett for details on his conquest. He guesses this is what he gets for staying out late on a school night. Heather takes his hand and says something about using their FX makeup to help him out and as she pulls him up the steps of the stage the rest of the class follows. 

“Was he hot?” Amelia asks. She steps on the backs of Rhett’s sneakers and he stumbles into Heather, the tiny blonde girl catching Rhett and spinning him around. 

“Sit,” Heather demands, and Rhett sits.

“Well, was he?” Adam asks. Rhett sits in a salon chair, bought from a barber shop in town to use for school plays, and his class sits down on the floor in a circle around him and Heather. 

“Was he what?” he asks, utterly dazed.

“Hot. Was he hot?” Adam looks up at Rhett earnestly and so does the rest of his cast, the lot of them sitting cross legged on the floor waiting for him to spill details. Heather undoes the top buttons of his shirt and pulls the collar down to expose Rhett’s throat.

“Christ, was he a vampire?” Heather asks, and Rhett stiffens. They catch it, of course they do, and Rhett feels himself blush when they burst into laughter. They are going to be the end of Rhett, they really are. They know him too well and they know too much; someday an unsuspecting freshman is going to wander in and hear them talking like this and he will be getting angry phone calls from parents. But once they get on a roll there is no stopping them and today is no exception. 

“Was he?!” Adam asks. He stands up to grab at the other side of Rhett’s collar, letting out a low whistle at the sight of his bruises. 

“He said he was,” he replies, and Rhett leaves it at that. Heather goes to work on his neck and swats Rhett with one hand every time he tries to move. The makeup sponge she prods Rhett with tickles but she has no sympathy, having Adam and Trevor hold his head still so he can’t jerk around. “This is ridiculous,” he complains. “I’m your _teacher_ and I won’t be held prisoner by- ahh!” Heather breaks down laughing as Ian backs away from Rhett, the ice cube he dropped down the front of Rhett’s shirt oozing down his chest. “Get back here right now!” Rhett calls to him, but he’s already gone, hiding backstage where Rhett can’t see him.

“Will you stop _moving_?” Heather whines. “You’re making this so much harder than it has to be, Mr. McLaughlin. Maybe this will serve as a lesson to you, hmm? No more fraternizing with vampires, okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rhett grumbles. Truth be told he has not thought of anything but Lincoln and his mouth since he left his place late in the middle of last night. Rhett stayed in bed with him past nightfall and well into the night; only after the sun sank all the way down below the hills in the west did he pull up the shades. It’s hard to believe someone so gorgeous and so talented with his tongue can be so crazy. He’s damn committed to the whole vampire thing, past the point of a kink and even past the point of a fetish. Rhett probably got out just in time to avoid being eaten alive or something, whatever it is vampires do to their victims. 

“I can’t believe you came to school like this,” Heather says. She finishes with the liquid concealer she slathers on Rhett and she pops open a container of powder. “He must have been really, really good to make you this stupid.” 

“This is not an appropriate school hour topic,” he replies.

“Oh, don’t hold out on us now!” Heather all but wails. The rest of Rhett’s class nods and throws their hands up in agreement and Rhett feels the beginning of a headache coming on. Heather shrieks at him when he moves to rub at his temples with both hands.

“Adam, give the man a brain massage!” she orders, and immediately Adam digs his fingers into Rhett’s aching temples. He sighs in relief. These kids may be a nightmare sometimes but more often they are the closest thing he has to friends. There is not much out here for Rhett; he moved away from his family in Georgia shortly after his mother found him in bed with the boy next door. It was twenty years ago, when he was eighteen, and it’s water under the bridge now. They send Christmas cards now over the holidays and he makes sure his scream GAY AND PROUD as loud as they can. A couple of rainbows and a card full of penis shaped confetti never hurt anyone and Rhett is sure someday his parents will recover. He doesn’t have many friends, either, most of the people he spends time with being other teachers who don’t like to be out late at night. His closest friend is the art teacher and she is going to kill Rhett when she finds out he told the kids about last night.

“Are you going to see him again?” Heather asks. With the tips of her fingers she finishes up her work, tapping at the underside of Rhett’s jaw to get him to look up. 

“I don’t know,” he replies.

“Someone who marks you up like this clearly wants something more from you than a one night stand,” Ian says sagely, the smug smile slipping off his face when Rhett’s Lefou, Oliver Deane, gives him a playful punch in the arm and calls him an idiot. The two of them start a slap fight and Rhett lets them. If he was a responsible teacher he would at the very least pull them apart, but responsible is the last word anyone would use to describe Rhett. So he lets them be. 

“I agree,” Heather says to Ian, and she reaches into the pocket of her jeans and comes out with her phone. “Look, you’re as good as new.” She turns on the camera and tilts the screen towards Rhett to show off her handiwork. The bruises on his throat are all but erased, hidden by the makeup Heather slathered on him. Rhett tilts his chin left and right to admire the effect, using one hand to wipe powder from his beard.

“Wow,” he breathes, and she claps her hands in delight. 

“I know!” she squeals. “Like they’re not even there!” She dances on the spot and reaches for Rhett’s shirt, buttoning up the buttons she undid. His chest is wet and the front of his nice blue shirt tinged dark from the ice cube Ian stuck down it. He shrugs to unstick the fabric from his skin and Heather puts away her makeup kit as Rhett stands and collects the attention of the class. 

“Okay,” he says, putting away his _I’m your friend_ persona and dragging out his serious teacher face. 

“Oh no!” Amelia cries, throwing her hands over her face like she’s hiding from Rhett. “Mr. McLaughlin’s going to _teach_ us something! Say it isn’t so!” 

These kids are damn lucky Rhett wouldn’t trade them for the world. 

“Wait, one more thing,” Adam cuts in, raising his hand. 

“Yes?” Rhett asks.

“Why in the world is your hair covered in glitter?” On second thought, maybe Rhett would trade the whole lot of them for a Tylenol and a glass of water. The class breaks into hysterics as Adam makes a joke about Twilight and okay. Rhett would. He _definitely_ would. 

 

It’s Monday night. It’s Monday, for Christ’s sake, and if Rhett goes out tonight he’s setting himself up for a school week from hell. There are play rehearsals every damn night from two to six and he has classes to teach every morning. The last thing he should be doing is getting ready to go back to the same club he was at the other night. But here he is, standing in front of the mirror and agonizing over which shirt to wear to bring out the green in his eyes. He messes with his dirty blond hair, shoving it artfully up with gel, taking ten minutes to make sure his neatly trimmed beard looks even. He figures he looks all right for a drama teacher in the end and he twists his hips to get a look at his tight blue jeans from every angle. At least his ass looks damn good if nothing else does. 

“Are you honestly going to do this?” he asks his reflection. Grimly, his reflection nods. Yes, he is going to do this. Maybe there’s a part of him hoping to see Lincoln haunting the same place he is, beckoning over a glass of absinthe. Or maybe not; maybe he wants to get him and his stupid mouth out of his head by trying out his rusty people skills on someone new. Either way this is a terrible idea and on his way out the door Rhett stops and changes his mind three times. He could stay home and watch Unsolved Mysteries all night over a bowl of popcorn; he could invite his neighbors over for beers even though he hasn’t spoken more than eight words to them since he moved into the apartment next door. He is not even sure he knows who lives next door, to be honest. All he hears is a lot of chair scraping and bickering from a couple. They could have two heads apiece for all he knows. 

He is distracting himself. It’s good for him, he knows it is, to go out once in a while and have fun. But three nights in a row is something he hasn’t done since he was a kid in college. He gets hungover too easy, too achy to stand after a night spent with only a few shots under his belt. Anyway, drinking is almost completely out of the question tonight; he still feels woozy and like he is missing a bit too much blood from Lincoln gnawing on his neck. 

He should probably stay home. But he has never been one to make decisions with his head and in the end he heads out the door. It’s a warm enough night, the city streets decorated for Halloween, and the vampire bats stuck with tape to store windows do nothing to ease his mind. _I wonder if Lincoln can turn into a bat_ , Rhett thinks before he can stop himself. He’s being crazy. He knows he is. Even if vampires were real he doesn’t buy into the whole bat thing, not at all. Maybe they just have bat sidekicks or something, messenger bats instead of owls. 

Being single for so long has really gotten to Rhett’s head.

He makes his way to the nightclub, inexplicably called Chimera, with his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his camouflage jacket. It’s his favorite jacket; it nips in slightly at the waist and makes him look curvier and more hourglass shaped than he really is. His students make fun of him when he wears it and tell him to go back to the 90’s, whatever that means. He is _not_ that sensitive but even so he only gets to wear it teasing-free on the weekends. Who cares what a bunch of teenagers think of him, anyway? It’s not like any of them have a spectacular sense of style; Ian wears his sweats tucked into his socks and Amelia tends to wear headbands with metal cat ears on them. 

Rhett seriously needs to stop thinking about his students on his way to pick someone up at a nightclub. 

The bouncers all know him by now but they still ask for his ID, reveling in Rhett’s annoyance as he struggles to pull his wallet from his jeans.

“Do you ever sleep, Rhett?” one of the two bouncers asks, the other holding up his ID to a streetlight as if he’ll find a defect in it. 

“Never,” he replies. He makes a grab for his ID but the bouncer yanks it away, teasing. “I’m a damn vampire.”

“Funny,” the taller of the two bouncers says, raising his eyebrows. “You’re the second guy to tell me that tonight.” 

“Yeah?” Rhett asks. This time when he reaches for his license the bouncer lets him snatch it. “Who was the other guy?”

“You should have seen him,” the bouncer says. “He was just your type. All dressed in black and wearing eyeliner.” 

“Hey, he hasn’t come out yet,” the other bouncer adds, clapping Rhett on the back so hard he stumbles. “Go see if you can pull him.” 

“I can pull anyone,” Rhett replies, and the bouncer moves as much as a solid wall when he slaps him on the back on his way into the club. Yeah, Rhett can pull whoever the hell he wants. He shoves his hair back as he slips into the club, hit at once with the smells of sweat and shitty booze. The air vibrates with music, the DJ in the corner far too deep into his own ass to feel the effects of the overpowering bass. Rhett’s damn brain seems to vibrate in his head, Rhett tripping over nothing as he adjusts to the change in light and the pounding music. Yeah, he is the picture of a man who can have whoever the hell he wants. 

What he wants is a man with a mouth like Lincoln’s. He sort of half wonders if it’s him dressed in black, smearing on eyeliner to attract boys who are into that whole fake goth sort of thing. Rhett wouldn’t put it past him; maybe he’s trying something less obvious than dressing as Keifer Sutherland in Lost Boys. If it is Lincoln, this Rhett has to see. At the bar he orders two shots of absinthe. Even on his tiptoes he can’t see for shit and he ignores the protests of the bartender as he climbs up on his stool. 

“Hey, that thing is _not_ sturdy, man, and I am not paying for it when you crack your head open!”

“I understand,” he replies, balancing as best he can on the rickety stool and pretending to fall when the bartender’s mouth drops open in horror. 

“I mean it, I don’t want to hear you crying when that thing breaks under you.”

“I said I understand! Shut up, will you, I’m trying to see!”

“Trying to…oh, whatever.” The bartender gets tired of fighting with Rhett and he lets him carry on, holding his shots and watching the crowd for a flash of glitter. Even dressed like a teenager circa 2005 there’s no way Lincoln won’t be wearing at least a _smidgen_ of glitter. It’s not like he knows the man but Rhett feels like maybe he does. He hasn’t been able to get him out of his head for a minute since last night and he feels he might be going crazy. Rhett wants his teeth on him, for Christ’s sake. If that’s not a sign of insanity then he doesn’t know what is. 

“Am I crazy?” Rhett asks the bartender, craning his neck to get a good look at the befuddled man. 

“Yeah,” he says. “A little.” He sets down the glass he dries and shows Rhett just how much a little is, stretching his fingertips as far as his arms will allow. Rhett understands. To him Rhett is just a man on a barstool, standing on his tiptoes and doing a strange dance where he stands like he has to go to the bathroom. It helps Rhett to stay balanced to shift his weight from foot to foot, that’s all, but the bartender looks at Rhett like he has eight eyes and he thinks maybe it’s not so easy to understand. 

“Do you believe in vampires?” Rhett asks him next, his gaze slipping past a man dressed top to bottom in glistening latex. Now that’s something Rhett will never understand; where in the world does all that sweat dripping down the back of his neck go in that thing? Surely it doesn’t just sort of pool in his ass crack, does it? 

Distracted by the important question Rhett poses to himself he misses the bartender’s answer and he rolls his eyes, all theatrics, when Rhett asks him to repeat himself. 

“I said I believe in good tippers who tell me they’re vampires,” the bartender replies. 

“Do you get a lot of those in here?” Rhett asks. 

“A few. Tonight? Only him.” Rhett turns to follow the vague direction in which the bartender points and there he is. Lincoln. He stands only a few feet away from Rhett and the bar. Tonight he looks miles different from last night, eyeliner smeared around his shining cerulean eyes underneath the lenses of big tortoiseshell glasses. He’s not wearing glitter or leather; he wears a black turtleneck and black skinny jeans, his lean body turned towards another man. The man is practically drooling over him as far as Rhett can see, mouth slick with spit. He keeps darting his tongue out to lick at his lips and there’s no way Lincoln can find that attractive, can he? But Lincoln smiles, canine teeth gleaming in the strobe lights by the bar, and okay. Lincoln can like whoever he wants. Just not while Rhett is around. 

“Whoa, watch it!” the bartender cries as Rhett hops from his stool and spills both of his shots.

“I’ll be back,” he replies over his shoulder, “as soon as I rescue my vampire lover from a man who thinks he’s a werewolf.” The bartender throws his hands up in exasperation but Rhett doesn’t mind; he can’t be the only person who causes the man to give up trying to understand now and then. He weaves through the crowd, shaking absinthe from his fingertips, and people step out of his way like the road to Lincoln is Rhett’s and Rhett’s alone.

He sees Rhett before Rhett reaches him. His half-lidded eyes go wide and then narrow again, catching the attention of the man who is trying his best to seduce Lincoln, and Rhett won’t stand for it. Not while he’s right here. The man turns around to see who has stolen Lincoln’s attention and his eyes narrow, too, anger rolling from him like a wave. Rhett takes a deep breath. Twenty years of acting haven’t been for nothing. Lincoln leans away, crossing his arms over his broad chest, and Rhett begins his show. 

“Who is this?” Rhett asks Lincoln. “Who the hell do you think you are, hitting on other people when you have a _baby_ and a loving _husband_ waiting for you at home? Did you think I wasn’t going to find out about this? Do you think I’m stupid?” Lincoln’s lips turn down and Rhett feels a hot surge of satisfaction; for a moment Rhett has him. 

“Wait, you’re _married_?” the seducer asks Lincoln, turning his head back and forth to watch both men at once. Rhett crosses his arms to mirror Lincoln, cocking his hip out to one side, and how did Rhett forget in less than twenty-four hours how lovely and light Lincoln’s voice is? 

“I guess I am,” Lincoln replies. Not for a moment does he take his eyes off Rhett.

“You guess?” the seducer cries. “Christ, how is it I always find the scummy ones?!” 

“I know how you feel,” Rhett tells him, and the seducer jumps a damn foot in the air when Rhett drops a hand on his shoulder. “I always attract the crazies, too, man. You’re not alone.”

“Are you kidding me?” He looks at Lincoln like this is a prank and he’s waiting for the punchline. All Lincoln gives him is a noncommittal shrug, eyes on Rhett. Rhett would be infuriated if he was the seducer and the man seems to have the same idea. He throws up his hands just like the bartender and makes a strange sort of gargling sound Rhett thinks is meant to be a groan. He walks away and disappears into the crowd and Lincoln doesn’t give him so much as a parting glance. And now that the threat is gone Rhett supposes he should feel relieved, but he doesn’t. With Lincoln still as stone Rhett edges away one step, then two. 

“Stop staring,” he says. “It’s rude.” Rhett is one to talk; while Lincoln stands still and watches him like he wants to swallow him whole Rhett looks him up and down. He looks even better tonight than he did last night, impossible as Rhett would have said it was then. His turtleneck fits him horrifically well; Rhett can see his hipbones, the build of his slender body. God, he’s got a nice body. Rhett gulps just in time for Lincoln to drown it out with a question. 

“Why did you do that?” 

“Do what?” Rhett asks in reply. 

“Scare away my dinner.”

“That guy was dinner, huh? Were you going to drain him and leave him in an alley to be found in the morning by the police? Was your plan to reduce him to jelly and then suck him dry?”

Lincoln rolls his eyes and even the sarcastic gesture looks good on him. “Not exactly,” he says. “I was just going to drink a little. Enough to take the edge off. You didn’t let me get very much out of you the other night, after all. I’m still hungry.” 

“Oh, sorry I didn’t let you kill me,” Rhett shoots back. 

“I would never kill you,” he replies. He’s agitated, knuckles white where he clutches his elbows, and maybe Rhett should be scared of him. Even if he says he wouldn’t kill him. 

“Yeah? Why not?”

“There’s a shortage of perfect throats in this world,” he says. “It’d be a shame to damage yours.”

Rhett blinks in the strobe lights and tries to gather his senses. “Did…did you just try to quote The Princess Bride at me?” Do vampires even watch movies? Why would they sit and watch TV when they could be out killing people, drinking blood out of goblets, sleeping in coffins? Okay. Rhett is losing it. Lincoln isn’t a vampire, not in any real sense. He’s just a normal guy and it’s perfectly normal for normal guys to watch movies. Rhett needs to get some fresh air before he lets Lincoln drag him to the bathroom and drink him empty right there in a stall. But first Rhett just needs to drag himself away from his eyes. 

“Are you feeling a little stuck?” Lincoln asks without answering Rhett’s question. 

“Uh huh,” he dumbly replies.

“Good. I’ve got you. Stay right where you are.” Yeah, okay. Rhett wouldn’t move away now for the world, not with Lincoln standing so close to him. He uncrosses his arms and begins to circle Rhett like a shark, like a lion. Like some sort of carnivorous animal, anyway, the kind who circles before eating Rhett in one bite. Rhett wouldn’t put it past him. Once he is at Rhett’s back Lincoln surges up on his toes, breath tickling Rhett’s ear as he speaks. “Why did you feel the need to interrupt my conversation?” he asks. 

“Why are you dressed like a mall goth threw up on you?” Rhett replies.

“I thought I’d change it up a bit,” he growls in Rhett’s ear. Rhett wants to be shocked at the sharp nip of his teeth at his earlobe but he is not. He is content to stand here and let Lincoln eat him raw. He doesn’t know how but he has Rhett- he actually has Rhett. He is not going anywhere. 

“How did that work for you?”

“Wonderfully,” he breathes. His breath is hot against Rhett’s throat and he doesn’t mean to but he sighs at the feeling, Lincoln all but purring at the sound of his voice. “Until you stepped in. Tell me, R-H-E-T-T, why did you do that?” He has Rhett so damn befuddled it takes him a moment to spell out in his head his own name. 

“I want you all to myself,” he replies. “Is all.” 

“Oh, is that all,” he scoffs in Rhett’s ear. His hands find Rhett’s hips and he gasps as fingertips graze his skin. How the hell does he _do_ that, keeping his skin so damn cold all the time? Lincoln mouths at the side of Rhett’s neck for a moment and in the next he’s the one sighing, leaning heavy against Rhett’s back and pressing his lips again and again to his jugular vein. Rhett lets Lincoln kiss him, feeling tired to his bones, and he wishes he knew how he did this, getting Rhett so complacent and sleepy and in his control. It must be his lips, sinfully full, or his tongue, hot as he licks up to Rhett’s ear. He doesn’t know. All he knows is he wants him, right here and right now, and Rhett is not accustomed to getting anything other than what he wants. Rhett chose him, after all, and when he pulls away from Lincoln he groans in protest. He pulls Rhett right back against his chest too fast for him to move and he bites down on Rhett’s earlobe, skillful tongue lapping at his skin.

“Who has who here?” Rhett asks him, and the question gives him pause. 

“If you’d like,” he finally says, “I can have you and then you can have me. What do you say?” 

“I say that’s the best damn idea I’ve ever heard.”

“Excellent,” Lincoln breathes. “Let’s get you out of those clothes before I rip them off you.” And he drags Rhett out of the club and into the night like his life depends on it. Hell, if he feels half as drunk with lust as Rhett does, it probably does. 

“Lincoln,” Rhett says as they wait for a cab.

“Yes?”

“Don’t let this go to your head but I think you might be the single most amazing person I have ever met in my life.” 

“Hmm,” he says, humming a little tune. His chest vibrates with it and Rhett leans into him, lounging lazily under his arm. “Hmm, hmm. What do you want me to do to prove that?” 

“I can think of a few things,” Rhett replies. “Starting with getting you out of that ridiculous outfit and ending with you putting love bites in places where no one can see.”

“Ah,” Lincoln breathes. He pauses. “I can do that.”

 

Rhett doesn’t do anything different, he swears he doesn’t, but the moment he steps into the auditorium for rehearsal his students begin to clap and cheer. 

“You saw him again!” Amelia crows. The feathers in her lopsided pink hairband make Rhett’s nose itch as she slams into him and gives him a squeeze around the middle.

“I knew you would!” Ian adds, and Rhett’s Beast emerges from backstage to watch the rest of the cast engulf Rhett in questions and hands and arms. 

“Tell us all about it!” Amelia urges. 

“Was it even better the second time?”

“Where did he bite you this go around?”

“Ooh, did you have him bite you where we can’t see to throw us off?”

“Come on, Mr. McLaughlin couldn’t throw a blind man with vertigo off!” Adam cries.

“What does that even mean, Adam?” Rhett’s Beast calls from the stage. 

“Yeah,” Heather says, brow furrowed. “Can a blind man even have vertigo?” 

“If you’re so smart, you come up with an analogy that’s any better!” Adam shoots to Rhett’s Beast. In reply Robbie Hanson rolls his big brown eyes and wanders away backstage. He’s a mystery, that boy, and if Rhett didn’t know him better he would think he fakes his whole wounded bad boy attitude for attention. But he’s an old soul, Rhett’s Beast is, and that’s the reason Rhett chose him to be Beast in the first place. As he watches Robbie disappear Heather loses her patience and tugs on Rhett’s arm, begging for details on his night.

“We have too much to do,” he replies, trying in vain to shake her off. “We don’t have time to talk about my life when we should have had the set painted last week, yeah?” 

“But that’ll take us like five _minutes_ ,” Heather all but wails, eliciting nods from the rest of the cast. “We want to hear everything, Mr. McLaughlin!”

“You are the weirdest group of people I have ever met in my life,” Rhett laments, sinking into a chair in the front row of the auditorium with Heather attached to his arm. “And I once dated someone who tried to get me to join a cult. So…” He gives his arm a shake and finally Heather lets go, her fingernails leaving angry red crescents in his arm. 

“A cult?” a voice rings out from the back of the auditorium. “That is a story I would love to hear.” Two dozen heads tip up to look behind Rhett as he leaps to his feet and turns around. He knows the voice and he knows he is right but until he lays eyes on Lincoln, Rhett can’t believe he’s here. He’s here, in Rhett’s domain, in Rhett’s world, and Rhett left him in his bed in a world that could not be further from this one. He can’t be _here_ , in real life, arms crossed over his chest and cheeks flushed. It’s a new look on him, far from his usual pallor, and Rhett has no idea what to do. 

His class reacts before he does.

“Holy shit,” Heather says. She’s the first to speak. “Is that him?” 

Rhett is going to die here right in the middle of the auditorium. 

He can’t be here, solid and real and smirking, and Rhett doesn’t even care how Heather knows. He just has to get rid of him before he says something incriminating or Rhett dies of embarrassment, whichever happens first. 

“It is,” he tells Heather, and without looking back he takes long strides toward Lincoln. The class murmurs in excitement behind him, following Rhett to the back of the room and pretending they’re not. Lincoln’s eyes on them, somewhere over Rhett shoulder, give them away. By the time Rhett reaches him his smirk is wide enough to crinkle up the corners of his dangerously blue eyes.

“You can’t be here,” Rhett tells him. He tries to sound authoritative, brave and angry, but Christ. Lincoln looks damn good even under the awful florescent lighting of the auditorium, deep pink spots high up on his cheekbones. Rhett is going to kill him the first chance he gets. He is going to make him pay for sneaking up on him, for surprising him, and Rhett is going to tie him down and make him regret ever meeting him. He is going to…he is going to get a hard on in the middle of class if he doesn’t stop thinking about the silk ties on Lincoln’s bedposts. 

“Why not?” Lincoln asks, voice low. Rhett’s class hovers at his back, expectant, and he is going to make them write lines or something until they stop asking for details about his life. They are never going to let Rhett live this down and he is going to keep them as late as he possibly can to teach them a lesson about being nosy little shits. 

“Because…how did you even _find_ me here?” 

“You are the only R-H-E-T-T in the city, Rhett,” he says, voice dancing over the spelling of Rhett’s name. “If you did not want me to visit, the least you could have done was give me a fake name.” He is going to be the death of Rhett. He’s going to kill him; he is going to die looking at his smug face. 

“Are you really a vampire?” Ian asks, and Rhett nearly snaps his neck to shoot him a warning glare he gleefully ignores. 

“Yes,” Lincoln says. Matter of fact. Like he doesn’t even care who thinks he’s crazy. 

“How did you get here in broad daylight?” Adam asks, his bold Gaston voice extending to his personality. 

“I can go out in the sunlight,” Lincoln replies. Like this is a normal conversation! Rhett might melt right into the floor. “I just don’t like to if I can help it. The sun does not agree with me.” He brandishes a hand at the blush on his cheeks and shrugs. “I get sunburned in minutes instead of hours.”

“So why did you come here?” Heather asks.

“I just missed Rhett,” he grins. “That’s all.” The room goes quiet. Rhett can feel dozens of eyes on him, questioning and curious, and he fumbles for something, anything at all to say. But as ever his class has different ideas than he does.

“You know, Mr. M. didn’t tell us how drop dead gorgeous you were,” Amelia says, and just like that the class erupts. Ten people try to talk to Lincoln at once, Rhett’s Gaston and Maurice and Chip crowding him, and Rhett resists the urge to yank them back by their collars. Lincoln looks smug enough to glow; he thrives on attention while Rhett feels like slinking away like an injured animal. 

“What exactly is it you see in Mr. McLaughlin?” Trevor, Rhett’s Maurice, asks. 

“Yeah, he’s kind of a grump,” Heather chimes in. “Kind of like an old man.”

Lincoln shrugs. “I was born in 1632. I like my men old.” The cast of Rydell High’s Beauty and the Beast laughs so hard Rhett covers his ears and wills the world to end around him. It doesn’t, of course. He spends the rest of class wishing for death to end the torture of listening to Lincoln bullshit stories about life in the seventeen century. Rhett will give him one thing; he’s an excellent storyteller. By the time the bell rings, interrupting a story about a chance encounter with Sir Isaac Newton, Rhett is half entranced himself. His daze might have more to do with his inability to tear his eyes from Lincoln’s mouth, but still. He has a way with words. The students groan when the bell rings and they beg Lincoln to come back tomorrow, every day, to tell them stories and help with the play. Rhett is about to scold them into oblivion when Lincoln flashes his teeth at him and agrees.

“Sure,” he says. “If Rhett…if Mr. McLaughlin will have me.” His voice drips with as much authority as it does sarcasm- he tries to make it a command instead of a question. He’s cocky beyond belief. But he has Rhett. He probably did the moment he stepped into the room. Rhett wants to be responsible here; what would the parents say if their kids came home telling them a vampire was the teacher’s assistant slash one night stand? Okay, make that a two night stand. But still. Rhett is going to get fired. He is going to jail if Lincoln gnaws on even one kid’s neck. One glance his way and Rhett gets the feeling such a thing is off the table. He looks at Rhett the same way he always does- like he can’t wait to get a bite. 

Rhett gulps and hopes no one can hear it. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I’ll have you.” Rhett waits for him to smirk, the smug bastard, and he adds, “I’ve been needing an assistant, anyway.” It’s partly true; he has always needed an assistant. He just usually chooses to take on the work of two people on his own. But if Lincoln wants to spend his days helping Rhett teach bratty, nosy kids, then he can be his guest.

Which reminds him. “Shit,” he groans. “We still haven’t practiced _once_ the choreography for _Be Our Guest_.” 

“There’s always tomorrow, Mr. McLaughlin,” Amelia says, slinging her purse over her shoulder on her way out of the auditorium. In twos and threes the rest of Rhett’s cast follows her, bidding farewell to Lincoln one by one and ignoring Rhett completely. 

“Someday I’m going to make you all pay for the headaches you give me!” he calls after Robbie Hanson’s receding back, and he tosses a rude gesture at Rhett over his shoulder as he’s the last to make his way out of sight. Rhett ponders why he even likes this job as Lincoln watches him collect scripts from around the stage. The kids have an awful habit of dropping them where they stand and Rhett even finds one stuffed in the folds of Robbie’s Beast costume. He curses the day he chose his career and by the time he slaps the last script into a pile backstage he is fuming. 

Lincoln winds his arms around Rhett from behind and he chuckles when Rhett snaps. “What the absolute hell do you think you’re doing?” Rhett asks him. 

“I’m holding you,” he says, nuzzling his cold nose into Rhett’s throat. 

“Not right this second. In general. Here. Now. In my life, in my class. Do you really think you can waltz in like you own the place and get to be, what? My right hand man?”

“I think so,” he says. 

“Well, you can’t.”

“Are you telling me you lied to the kids?” he laughs. Rhett really wishes he would stop doing that; his breath tickles Rhett’s ear and makes him squirm when he wants to be resolute. 

“I’m telling you you’re crazy and you can’t be here. You’re a stalker, you know. You stalked me.”

“Hardly.” His nose is damn cold in the crook of Rhett’s neck and goose bumps creep up along his spine. 

“I could get you arrested.”

“You could.” 

“I’m going to get a lot of angry phone calls about a vampire teaching my kids.”

“I can play human for parents,” he says, pressing his lips to Rhett’s throat. He presses flush against Rhett’s body and holds him to his chest. He has Rhett. He really has him. 

“Funny.”

“Is it?”

“You really are a crazy person.”

“I’m starting to think you are. Fraternizing with vampires and all.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just the one.” His hands begin to wander down Rhett’s chest and down to his stomach, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He’s so damn cold but his hands make Rhett feel warm. Too warm. He chuckles, quiet and deep, and there were a lot of things Rhett wanted to chastise him for that he can’t quite remember. 

“You were quite the one night stand,” Lincoln says, lips at Rhett’s ear. “But I think you might be an even better lover.” Whatever he means, he has no idea, but Rhett is all for it. When he goes on it’s all Rhett can do to keep his knees from unlocking and betraying him. “From the moment I laid eyes on you I knew you were something special. Something I have never seen. And I was right.” He nips at Rhett’s earlobe and draws away, chuckling to himself. “Then again, I am always right.” His lips land on Rhett’s cheek, Lincoln giving him a chaste kiss promising things a hell of a lot less chaste, and in the next moment he is gone. 

Rhett will give him another thing. The man knows how to make an exit. With the last word his there is nothing Rhett can do but shake his head and gather up his things. And wonder what the hell it is he has gotten himself into.


	2. II

Rhett is nothing short of shocked when Lincoln shows up to rehearsal the next day. When Rhett is not with his cast and crew he teaches drama to two other classes and Lincoln seems to have no interest in that. He shows up every day after school, right on time, slipping in the back of the auditorium and waiting for someone to take notice. He loves the attention; he goes wild for it. He beams like being in a high school auditorium with Rhett and the cast of Beauty and the Beast is the best place he could be. Rhett doesn’t ask him where he works, if he works, how the hell he has the time to be here. The fur comforter and the crystal chandeliers in his high rise apartment can’t be cheap. Rhett starts to wonder on his fourth day shadowing him if he’s got rich parents, if he’s from money and doesn’t have to work a day in his life. He looks the type, aristocratic and haughty, despite his personality not quite meshing with the image. Rhett tells himself it would be rude to ask and leaves it at that.

Stevie pesters Rhett every day at lunch to ask him something, anything, but Rhett tells her the truth. Lincoln and Rhett haven’t seen each other outside of school since he’s begun to work at Rhett’s side. She gets all confused at that and Rhett doesn’t tell her he is, too. It’s not like he doesn’t want to, right? Rhett likes to think he can tell, anyway, and he can see the way Lincoln’s eyes land on him and find bits and pieces he likes. He stares at Rhett’s ass, at his neck, at his goddamn calves, and he doesn’t know what he’s thinking and Rhett doubts he even wants to know. He’s crazy, after all, gorgeous and amazing in bed but still crazy. 

Not for a minute does he drop the vampire façade. He tells the kids stories as he helps them paint the sets, idly flicking his paintbrush without even looking. Rhett would tell him to cut it out and pay attention if he didn’t still do an impeccable job, anyway. 

“Well, I moved to America after the Revolution,” he says. “The American Revolution, that is. I just got sick of all the bullshit coming from both sides and figured it was time to start something new. It was 1779, I believe, when I finally made it here. And as you can tell I completely lost my accent over time. My poor mother would roll over in her grave if she heard me speak like this.” Heather and Ian smack their heads together, so entranced by Lincoln’s stories, and they cry out in pain as Lincoln chuckles and gives his own head a bemused shake. 

If the kids didn’t love him so much and if Rhett wasn’t just a tiny bit afraid he would tell Lincoln to get lost. He really would. He likes to think he would, anyway, because he is not stupid and he knows a right choice when he sees one. And Lincoln is not one of them. His teeth are too sharp and his eyes too sly, like he’s always fifteen steps ahead of everyone else. His stories are too strange and his real life too mysterious, too many things Rhett doesn’t know.

But still, it’s a lot nicer than Rhett expected having someone here to help him. Lincoln does what Rhett says when he says it with a smile on his face. He paints sets and reads through lines, climbing onstage and dramatically overacting to get a laugh out of the kids. It only takes two days of him showing off for Rhett to discover Lincoln’s singing voice is far lighter than his own, silky and easy and bright, and he takes over teaching the kids their songs. At Friday’s after school rehearsal Lincoln sings scales with the girls before he shows off some more. His rendition of the titular _Beauty and the Beast_ has Heather in tears; he stops mid-song to drape an arm around her shoulders and ask her what’s wrong. 

“You just make it seem so effortless,” she sniffles, dabbing at her eyes with the sleeves of her Mrs. Potts costume. 

“Oh, Heather,” Lincoln says. “Do I need to remind you I have been practicing my singing for almost four hundred years? It does not happen overnight. You sound amazing, anyway; your voice is a gift.” His kind words cheer her right up and moments later she’s stopped crying and started horsing around with Oliver Dean and Amelia, the three of them doing cartwheels across the stage. Rhett shouts to Heather she better take off her expensive costume, thank you very much, if she’s going to be running around like a crazy person, and she obeys. Lincoln laughs when Rhett throws his hands up in defeat, Heather tossing her costume in a heap on the side of the stage. 

“You’re a good actor,” Lincoln says, scooping up the costume and folding it neatly in his hands. “Pretending you don’t love them to pieces.” 

“They’re all pains in my ass,” Rhett replies, and he holds his hand out for Heather’s costume. Lincoln pretends to hand it to him and pulls back at the last moment, a shit eating grin on his face. God, he smiles a lot. It’s probably more showing off, more of him trying to get one over on Rhett like he always does. He probably paid a lot of money to get fake canine teeth so realistic, more than Rhett makes in a year, even. What dentist in their right mind would make them so damn sharp, though, Rhett has no idea. Seems dangerous, like they can be used a little too easily for biting.

Rhett trips on his way backstage and he decides he really needs to stop letting Lincoln distract him while he’s working. He is going to walk under a ladder and get this play cursed or something if he is not careful, and no amount of Lincoln’s help would be able to save them then. Lincoln catches Rhett by the hips and it’s hard to be curt with him when Rhett can’t stop imagining the way he looks naked. But he tries his best. 

“Thanks, Link,” he says without looking back. “You’re a real pal.” Lincoln’s hands vanish from Rhett’s hips and Rhett can’t feel him behind him anymore. When Rhett looks around to see what he’s doing he sees something on Lincoln’s face he hasn’t seen before- sadness. “What’s wrong?” Rhett asks. 

He shakes his head like he didn’t even realize he had frozen. “Nothing,” he says. “It…it’s just been a long time since someone has called me Link.” 

“Don’t like nicknames?” Rhett asks.

“No. No, I _like_ being called Link,” he says, a renewed smile on his face, and he helps Rhett pile discarded costumes into the closet backstage as the kids get ready to go home. 

They don’t have weekend rehearsals yet, the play still months away, but they do have plans for tomorrow. Rydell High School has never been generous to Rhett and his department with their money and they are just now running low on what they managed to raise last year selling chocolate and calendars. Tomorrow they have a bake sale at the church in the center of town, all day long from morning to night. It’ll be fun, Rhett hopes, and he hasn’t invited Lincoln yet and has no idea if he should. 

Rhett says goodbye to the kids and double checks the list of the baked goods assigned to each student, making sure none of them have forgotten. 

“Don’t worry, Mr. M., I know the drill,” Ian says on his way out the door. “I already have my pot cookies ready to go.”

“Don’t even think about _joking_ about that or I’ll call your mother and tell her I caught you smoking in the balcony!” Rhett warns, and he turns back to stick his tongue out and tell Rhett to lighten up. Rhett tells him he better watch it before he gets in real trouble and once the door slams behind him Rhett and Lincoln are alone. Rhett has his back turned to Lincoln and his arms are around him before he even has time to inhale. His nose burrows into Rhett’s neck and it’s a little scary how familiar the feeling is to him, how much of his body and his mannerisms Rhett knows. He doesn’t know much else but he knows where his hands will go before they do, sliding down Rhett’s hips and crossing over his stomach. 

“Lincoln,” he says as his teeth graze Rhett’s throat. In reply he makes a low sort of murmur. “What’s your real name?” Lincoln laughs so suddenly he chokes, releasing Rhett and coughing into his hands. Rhett turns to face him and he has surprised him, he really has. “Answer me, yeah?”

“I suppose it’s only fair I tell you mine now that you have shown me yours,” he says, and Rhett nods to agree. “Charles,” he says. “I am Charles Lincoln Neal the Third and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He sticks a slender hand out to Rhett and he takes it, his handshake firm and proper. His smile widens the longer the two of them clasp hands and Rhett pulls away before he splits his face in two. 

“The pleasure is mine,” Rhett replies, and Lincoln begins to chuckle like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. 

“You are something else, R-H-E-T-T,” Lincoln says. 

“Well, so are you, Mr. Neal,” Rhett replies. He corrects himself, the pieces coming together, calling Lincoln by the abbreviated form of his middle name. “I mean, Link. Although, I have to say Link is not a very fitting name for a vampire…” His eyes flash and Rhett doesn’t know what he’s said to make him go wild but Link does. Somehow he throws Rhett over his shoulder and carries him out of the auditorium, out of the school. Rhett doesn’t try to get down. To be honest, he sort of likes it, his ear pressed to the small of Link’s back and his hands dangling by his calves. He sort of likes it when he takes control. Never will Rhett tell him, though. He knows. He _knows_. 

Link puts him down on the hood of his car and Rhett forgets for a moment he is at work, in the damn parking lot of a high school, when Link presses him to the sun warmed metal and hisses in his ear.

“I cannot even tell you how badly I want to take you right here,” he says. “But I would prefer not to let the sun have its way with me as much as I want you to.” He backs off, eyes dark. “I’ll follow you to your place,” he says. “Okay?”

Rhett gulps. He’s crazy, he’s wild. His cheeks are bright pink in the setting sun, and okay. Okay. He nods. 

“Good,” he says. “See you soon.” He leaves Rhett panting on the hood of his Toyota and it takes him a lot longer than he would care to admit to unstick himself from the metal and slip into the car. Yeah. He is so far over his head it’s comical and it doesn’t look like he is coming up for air anytime soon. He could get used to this.

 

Rhett idles in his parking space for about three seconds before Link pulls up beside him in a goddamn DeLorean, of all things. Its gleaming mirrors vibrate with the bass of the music he listens to, Link beaming behind the wheel. Rhett should have pegged him as an 80’s fanatic from the moment he saw him dressed as a Lost Boys vampire at Chimera. The car is immaculate as it is tacky, shining and clean and maybe just a little bit sexy with Link inside. 

“Showoff,” Rhett mutters to himself, and his smile widens like he can hear Rhett speak. He has never in his life met such a damn showoff, so cocky and confident, and he can’t believe how much he likes it. “Really?” He asks as Link swings open the gull wing doors, sliding out of the silver car and grinning madly. 

“What?” he asks. God, he looks good, standing there with his black hair artfully disheveled, his blue jeans just tight enough to show off the grace of his long legs, and okay. Forget the car. 

“You know what?” Rhett replies. “Never mind.” Link’s happy to let it go as Rhett lunges for him, taking his cheeks in both hands and pressing him to the hood of his car. He makes a happy noise and lets Rhett guide him, relinquishing control. His mouth is cold, his lips soft, and Rhett hates how hungry he’s let himself get for him. Rhett doesn’t have time for this, a wild, insatiable man he knows nothing about. He doesn’t have anything to give him. But at the moment he doesn’t think he minds; he kisses Rhett like they haven’t kissed in eons, hands sliding down the small of Rhett’s back and clutching at his shirt. He tastes sweet and Rhett shouldn’t be doing this. There’s something in the feverish way Link kisses him that tells Rhett he wants the world; he wants all Rhett can offer and more. 

Right when Rhett goes to tell him they really, really ought to move a little slower, please, Link pauses. He pulls back a fraction of an inch, his cool lips brushing Rhett’s as he speaks. 

“Don’t you have some baking to do?” he asks. Rhett’s head spins from the press of Link’s hips against his and before he can formulate a reply Link’s gone. He slides out from under Rhett and his hands hit the hood of his stupid flashy car, Rhett’s elbows cracking from the jolt.

“Ow!” he grumbles, and it takes a long moment for him to find Link again. He’s already at the front door of Rhett’s apartment building hundreds of feet away. There’s no way he got there so fast, no way in hell. But he’s there, teeth flashing at Rhett, his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. He waits for Rhett like he has been keeping him waiting forever. 

“What are you _doing_?” Rhett calls to him. He has to shout to make himself heard across the parking lot, Link moving to stand in the shade cast by the awning over the front door of Rhett’s building. 

“I’m waiting!” he replies. “I’m quite good at baking. I was thinking macarons. I am especially good at those.” 

Of course he is. “Showoff!” Rhett shouts across the lot. From where he stands he can see Link’s shoulders shake from laughter. A sane person would cut him off. Wouldn’t they? Sure, he has never been the smartest guy in the world when it comes to relationships. Okay, so maybe he is not the smartest guy in the world when it comes to anything. But he’s not crazy, is he? Rhett is going to cut him loose soon. Isn’t he? 

“Get your ass over here and let me lick ganache off you, will you?”

Okay. So today, he is not. Oh well. There’s always tomorrow.

 

Three hours later Rhett and Link have twelve dozen chocolate macarons in Tupperware on the kitchen counter and chocolate ganache drizzled everywhere else. Rhett lounges on his beat up old sofa, his head in Link’s lap, and Link traces a vein in Rhett’s temple with his fingertips. There’s ganache on the ceiling and Rhett is going to pay for that; he can already see the landlord writing up a list of all he owes her for the stains. He’s too hazy to worry about it now. He is pretty sure Link bit him at some point and he’s feeling a bit lightheaded. There’s blood on Link’s plump lower lip and it’s probably Rhett’s. Should he be worried? He’s not. He lazes in Link’s lap and tries to catch his breath, Link’s hands icy on his face. 

“How do you _do_ that?” he asks, catching Link’s slender hand in both of his. Rhett twists and turns it, running his fingers along the lines in Link’s palm, and when he laughs Rhett is not surprised. 

“Do what? Render you useless with sex?”

“No,” Rhett scoffs, although he guesses Link sort of has. Rhett feels close to boneless at the moment if he is being honest. “How do you keep your skin so cold all the time?”

Link pauses. “I’m the living dead, Rhett. I’m _dead_. Death tends to chill you.” 

“I’m being serious,” Rhett says, dropping Link’s hand and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“So am I.” Link licks his thumb and drags it across Rhett’s cheek, wiping chocolate off his face and sticking his thumb in his mouth. “I am _dangerously_ good at making ganache.” 

“And changing the subject.” Link looks down at Rhett, one eyebrow cocked up, and he goes on. “How did you die, then, Mr. Smart Guy? Spill it. I want all the gory details.” 

“I jumped off a bridge,” he says. “It was painful. I would not recommend it. I might have died from my injuries in the end but I was not given the chance. A young vampire found me and he went wild from the blood. He turned me and the rest is history. And here I am with chocolate in my hair and a beautiful boy in my arms.” He shrugs. Rhett scoffs again, rolling his eyes so hard they might be in danger of falling out of his head. 

“Right,” he says.

“Why are you so adamant that I am lying?” he asks. Like he’s genuinely puzzled.

“Why are you so adamant about lying?” Rhett replies. He may be the best sex Rhett has ever had but he’s still a nutter. Rhett should get around to telling him to go away. 

“I am _not_ lying,” he says. “Why would I lie about being a vampire?”

“To get laid?”

“Just because it worked on you does not mean everyone has the same willingness to go to bed with the undead,” he says. Rhett gives him credit; his deadpan voice is perfect. He’s a damn good liar. 

“So you’re saying it was a ploy to get me to sleep with you.”

“Ahh!” he says, throwing his hands up. “You are hopeless, Rhett. Hopeless. You are determined not to believe me and that’s fine. Maybe in twenty years when I am the same and you are an old man you will see the truth.”

“I’ve never kept anyone around for one year, Link, never mind twenty,” Rhett replies. At that he goes still. Rhett look up at him, at the sharp angles of his jaw and the high rise of his cheekbones, and he looks like he hardly breathes as he replies.

“I haven’t either,” he says, and he quiets. The mood in the living room changes, goes dark, and Rhett doesn’t mean to but he stammers a bit when he tries to bring back the lightheartedness. 

“So we’re both fuckups,” Rhett says, reaching up to cup Link’s chin in his hand. “Maybe we’re made for each other. Maybe we’re soulmates, connected from another life. Maybe we’re…”

“Stop it,” Link says, and Rhett hates how he always seems to vanish before Rhett even realizes he’s moving. Rhett’s head thumps down on the sofa, the spot Link where sat not warmed at all, and he’s sitting on the kitchen counter by the time Rhett finds him again. From this distance Rhett can see ganache on his ear, ganache smeared across one nipple, ganache in his hair. Rhett is going to be finding chocolate in strange places for the rest of his damn life. But right now Link looks murderous, eyes dark and body still. It takes Rhett a second to unlock his throat and speak.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Don’t talk about soulmates to me,” he says. He holds his body stiffly like he’s afraid to move; be it to run away or attack Rhett, he has no idea. Maybe he should be scared. 

“Why not? Don’t believe in soulmates?” Rhett asks.

“I did,” Link says. “Once. A long time ago. I learned my lesson about giving my heart away.” His lips turn down, eyes far away, and Rhett sits up and leans closer to him. Rhett’s head still spins from whatever the hell Link did to him and it takes all the energy he has to look Link in the eye and ask him if he’s all right. “Fine,” he says. “I just realized something, that’s all.”

“What’s that?”

“I thought I learned my lesson,” he says. “It’s been so long since I last loved someone that I truly thought I learned my lesson. But sitting here, looking at you…I am not so sure anymore.” 

Okay. The last thing Rhett needs, the very last thing, is a man claiming to be a vampire falling in love with him. Rhett doesn’t do love. He’s only after sex, ganache on his white ceiling and sugar crusted on his chest. This is fun, this is strange, this is casual. It’s all Rhett can give. Letting Link into his life beyond his bedroom already pushes it as far as his fight or flight instinct goes. Rhett doesn’t panic, he really doesn’t, but Link bursts into laughter and hops off the counter, making his way back to Rhett. He sits, dragging Rhett into his lap, and as Rhett clutches to him Link tilts his cheek with one finger to make Rhett look at him.

“I’m joking,” he says, canine teeth flashing. “You are exceptionally easy to tease.” The moment Rhett’s heart stops racing he tries to pout, sticking his tongue out and rolling his eyes. Rhett’s petulance only makes Link laugh harder and Rhett sees something he hasn’t seen before; his eyes gleam madly when he laughs hard enough. Rhett feels a surge of affection he tries not to show in his face. Link doesn’t need to know he has Rhett any more than he already does. This whole thing, whatever it is, is the closest thing he has had in a long time to a relationship. Rhett should probably be scared, freaking out, running away, but he’s not. And he has no idea why.

“Link,” he says, and Link makes a soft noise in reply. “How long does your vampire venom stay in my system?” It’s a silly question; Rhett shouldn’t be humoring him. But he likes it and Rhett likes his smile and what’s the harm in that? 

“Not long,” Link says. “Maybe up to a day. No longer than that. Why?”

“No reason,” Rhett replies, reaching up to pluck at the loose black strands of hair just brushing Link’s bare shoulder. 

“Feeling a little smitten?” he asks. 

“As if,” he replies.

“I can always bite you again. Give you another dose.”

“You know we’re alone, right?” Rhett asks. “You can drop the vampire thing at any time. It’s cute up to a certain point but sooner or later I’m going to have to decide if you’re passionate or just insane.” Link hums, sliding one hand up Rhett’s jaw and running his thumb along Rhett’s bottom lip. 

“Your ability to ignore the truth is cute, too,” Link says, and Rhett parts his lips for him. “At some point one of us is going to have to concede.” Rhett presses a kiss to the pad of Link’s thumb before he slips two fingers into Rhett’s mouth, brushing them across his canine teeth. Rhett closes his lips and Link laughs, Rhett’s tongue sliding across his fingertips, and when he tries to pull away Rhett bites him. Link stiffens, going still as stone, and when Rhett releases him he pulls his hand away fast enough to blur.

“Careful,” he says. “You need to be cautious, Rhett. Don’t you know how people get turned?”

“No,” Rhett replies. “Tell me, then.”

“If I were to turn you,” he says, tiptoeing his fingers down Rhett’s chest. There are tiny indents by his fingernails from where Rhett bit him and he watches Link go, pressing down on each of Rhett’s ribs. 

“Go on,” Rhett says when Link doesn’t.

“I would drink some of your blood,” he says. “And then you would drink some of mine. And then you would be like me.”

“Crazy?”

“Undead.”

“So crazy.”

“That’s it,” Link says, and one moment Rhett is cradled in his lap and the next he’s got Rhett pinned to the sofa, his body hovering over Rhett’s. “What do I have to do to convince you I am really a vampire?” he asks. His hips roll into Rhett’s and his icy hands are tight and Rhett can’t think straight anymore. 

“Uh,” he replies. 

“Do I have to kill someone in front of you? Do I have to turn into a bat, sleep in a coffin, howl at the moon? Transform once a month?”

“I think you’re thinking of werewolves,” Rhett replies, and Link moves so swiftly Rhett doesn’t see him shift until Link’s nose is pressed to his. 

“You are a marvel, Rhett,” he says. “And I hope you will let me discover all the marvelous things there are to know about you.”

“I don’t usually let my one night stands learn my last name, never mind anything important.”

“Ah, so the only way to your heart is to steal my way inside.”

“Hey, now,” Rhett says. “Who says you’re anywhere near my heart?”

Link smiles before brushing his lips against Rhett’s, too soft to be a kiss. His lips cradle Rhett’s lower lip, his mouth turned up into a smile he can’t seem to turn off. He’s going to say something to leave Rhett stupid, he knows he is. And yet when it happens Rhett is still surprised. 

“I have a feeling I will make my way there,” he says, and before Rhett registers his weight vanishing he’s gone. The only thing indicating he was ever in the apartment is the closing of the front door on his way out. Even his clothes are gone; he must have thrown them on halfway out the damn door. If Rhett didn’t think he would hear him he would scream. Link is the most frustrating person he has ever met in his life. Who does he think he is, anyway, waltzing into Rhett’s life and staking a claim? Does he think he’s a permanent fixture now, burrowing his way in where Rhett will let him stay? Rhett should tell the poor, crazy bastard before he gets his heart broken he doesn’t intend to give him anything more. 

Rhett is thinking of the best way to tell him without getting his throat ripped out when there’s a sharp rap at his tenth story window. Rhett leaps up from the sofa and feels his jaw drop open; Link stands outside on the fire escape waving at him. He doesn’t move, wondering if he should grab for a weapon in the kitchen or something, and Link says something he can’t hear. 

“What?” Rhett asks.

“Tell me something!” he says through the window. 

“What?” Rhett asks again.

“Do I have any chance at all?” Rhett opens his mouth to ask him what he’s talking about when he beams and adds, “Of getting to you. In the end. Tell me the truth, Rhett, am I wasting my time?” He looks so forlorn, so sincere, and Rhett can’t believe it but he has a chance to take the upper hand. He dazzles Rhett more than he’d like and he’s giving Rhett a way to get the better of him. If he’s baiting Rhett, he takes it.

“If you think the best sex of your life is a waste of your time, babe, then I guess you just might be.” The sly little smile he gifts Rhett tells him it was the exact right thing to say. Rhett can see the flash of his sharp canine teeth and in the dark Rhett has to admit he looks a little intimidating. Just a little, his sharp face cast in shadows. 

“I’ve been around almost four hundred years, Rhett,” he says, voice muffled by the glass between him and Rhett. “You have to give me a little more to be the best sex I’ve ever had. Now tell me before I go mad. Am I wasting my time?”

“Yes,” Rhett says. 

“Yes?”

“Yes. I should have told you but you’re so damn hot I decided to wait. I don’t date vampires. I only sleep with them.” As an afterthought Rhett adds, “And occasionally let them teach me how to make macarons.” 

“Hmm,” Link breathes, his breath fogging up the window. “Who do you date, then?” 

“Werewolves,” he says. “Mummies. Swamp monsters. Zombies.” 

“Ghosts?” Link guesses.

“And ghouls.” 

“Hmm,” Link hums again. “I am going to figure you out, Rhett. Whether you want to let me in or not. I am far too interested in you to be scared off by your attitude.” He frowns for a moment, looking so troubled Rhett actually feels a twinge of pity for him, and he says, “Unless, of course, this is you telling me you are not interested and you sincerely don’t date vampires.” 

Rhett pretends to mull it over, Link standing with his hands behind his back with his eyes all over him. Rhett wants Link under his control for once, waiting for Rhett to come up with an answer, and the smile he gets when he speaks is enough to make his heart flutter.

“I can make an exception,” Rhett says. Link lights up. 

“How magnanimous of you,” he says. 

“I try.”

“See you tomorrow,” he says, and crap. He’s coming to the bake sale, then, and Rhett will be stuck with him and the kids all day. If his plan is to torture Rhett he’s doing a bang up job. As they stand with a window between them, Rhett bare chested and crusted with chocolate and Link looking immaculate in a gray wool coat, Link only smiles wider. “Am I not invited tomorrow?” he asks.

“It would be rude of me to keep you away after you worked so hard in the kitchen,” Rhett replies. “You can come. But you have to behave.”

“Ah,” he says. “What does behaving entail?”

“Don’t touch me,” Rhett says. “Don’t wink at me. You know what? Don’t even _look_ at me.” 

“Are you that distracted by me?” he asks. He loves this. He absolutely loves this, the cocky bastard. 

“Yes,” Rhett replies. “Can you handle that?”

“I can try,” he says. “I’m awfully distracted by you, too.”

“Good,” Rhett says.

“Good.” And that’s all. Link vanishes, leaving Rhett staring out the window at the setting sun. So maybe he doesn’t date vampires. But he guesses he is dating a fake one. 

 

“I thought vampires couldn’t go out in the sun,” Stevie says, arms full of Tupperware. She tumbles the empty containers down and kicks them under the tables laden down with baked goods, Rhett’s students milling around getting ready for the sale to start. They’ve set up in front of the church closest to the school, the morning unseasonably chilly and the students whining already about the wind. Rhett ignores Heather’s whining about her hair and tells Stevie,

“I dunno. Link says he can go out in the sun, just not for long.”

“Then how is he going to help out all day?” she replies, sucking frosting off one thumb. 

“I don’t know, Stevie,” Rhett replies. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“I will the second he gets here,” she says. If Rhett wasn’t so grateful for her help today he might tell her to cut him a break. But Rhett needs her here and so all he does is roll his eyes behind her back when she snaps a hand towel at Ian for chasing Amelia around with a spider. 

“Put it down!” she says. “No, Jesus, not in the brownies!” She claps her hands over her eyes as Ian pretends to drop the big hairy spider into Amelia’s brownies, getting way too much joy out of causing Stevie anguish. 

“Quit fucking around,” Rhett scolds because he is off the clock, and the kids get a kick out of it when he swears. It makes them pay attention to him, anyway. 

“Never!” Ian cries, and okay. Maybe if Rhett starts pretending to be a vampire they’ll look at him like they look at Link, respect and awe in their eyes. Rhett never gets those looks, like they’re curious and scared and eager to please, and Rhett can’t wait for Link to get here and knock some sense into them. Rhett trips Ian when he goes to drop his prized spider into Heather’s braid and he drops it, cursing Rhett under his breath as he dives under the tables to find it. 

“If I see that spider one more time it’s going down your throat,” Rhett threatens, and he tosses back one hand to throw his middle finger up at Rhett. “All right, who do I have to kill to get some respect around here?” Rhett asks the bright blue sky, giving up on Ian entirely. 

“I would go with Ian,” Link says, and twenty pairs of eyes land on him at once. He smirks, hands deep in the pockets of black skinny jeans, and Rhett is damn thankful he laid ground rules. It isn’t fair, honestly, how good he looks just standing there. He wears aviator sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose and a gray pea coat with the collar up, looking very much the part of a real life vampire. He lopes closer, long legs sinfully muscular and lean, and yeah. Rhett is going to die regardless of any rules he set for him. Rhett doesn’t even stand a chance. 

“Link!” Manny Valance, Rhett’s Chip, cries out. “Where did you get those _shoes_?” Link has to stop short to avoid kicking her straight in the teeth when she drops to the pavement to fawn over his shoes. 

“They’re Saint Laurent,” Link says of his pointed black boots, and of course they are. He catches Rhett’s eye over Manny’s head and he winks, smug as ever. Rhett hates him. He really does. Who gave him the right to stand there looking so good? What did Rhett do to deserve this, anyway? Okay, so maybe some people would be thrilled to have a gorgeous madman falling head over heels in love with them, as Rhett is pretty sure Link is. But not Rhett. Not at all. He helps Manny to her feet and she whips out her phone, asking to take a picture of Link’s damn shoes, and he laughs as he nods. 

“What does this guy _do_ for a living?” Stevie asks from behind Rhett, just as awed as the kids. 

“I have no idea,” Rhett replies. He forgets this is her first time seeing Link and he should introduce them, he guesses, his best friend and his…whatever Link is. Right? 

“He’s _gorgeous_ ,” she breathes, and weakly Rhett nods.

“I know.”

“What does he want with _you_?”

“Thanks, Stevie, you’re a real pal.”

“Oh, stop,” she says, swatting Rhett on the arm. “It’s just…he’s wearing two thousand dollar shoes and he’s so…wow.” She makes a vague hourglass shape with her hands and Rhett knows. He _knows_. “I have to meet him.” Despite Rhett’s thoughts leaning the same way his first instinct is to grab for her and reel her back, her blonde ponytail smacking him in the face. 

“What if he tries to eat you?” Rhett asks, even though Link looks more demure talking to the kids than Rhett has ever seen him. Vampire or not he wasn’t joking about the sun; it’s a partly cloudy day but already his cheeks are pink and getting pinker. Even so he laughs animatedly with Rhett’s students and they tug on his arms in turn for his attention. They’re like puppies around him and Rhett doesn’t understand it. If Rhett had _half_ the attention span Link gets the school play would be rehearsed front to back by now. 

“I have a feeling he’s only interested in eating you,” Stevie says, and she pulls away and Rhett lets her go. She steps up to Link, a head shorter than him, and she sticks her hand out. “I’m Stevie,” she says, Link’s slender hand making hers disappear when he takes it. “I’m Rhett’s best friend.” She glances back at Rhett for just a moment and he knows what she’s going to say before she says it. Rhett doesn’t have time to stop her before she says, “I have heard so much about you. You’re just as gorgeous as Rhett tells me.” If Rhett didn’t know she has her art degree framed in her office he would think she was thirteen years old the way she teases.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Link says, and when his eyes flick up to Rhett he sticks out his tongue. 

“Tell me, because Rhett is being very cagey. Are you his boyfriend or not?” Rhett is going to kill her. He really, truly is going to kill her. Again Link’s blue eyes flick Rhett’s way.

“I have to admit, Rhett is rather cagey with me, too,” he tells Stevie. He glances at Rhett’s students, leaning closer to Stevie to speak quieter, and Rhett finds himself leaning, too. “I think he’s mostly into me because I’m spectacular in bed and not because he has any interest in me as a person.” Stevie dissolves into giggles and Rhett has had enough. Link is going to be the death of him.

“I can hear you!” he shouts, and Link and Stevie look at him wearing identical smirks. He hates them, the both of them. He really does. “If you don’t stop talking about me right now I’m never going to speak to either of you again.” 

“I wouldn’t survive the loss,” Link says, and Stevie laughs so hard she stumbles over nothing at all. He catches her by the elbow and she leans into him, cackling like a madwoman, and Rhett hates how impossible it is to frown when his best friend is laughing. In the end he joins in, watching his crazy vampire boyfriend wrap one arm around his best friend and laugh with her. Maybe that makes Rhett crazy, too. 

And he doesn’t even care. He’ll be crazy, then. If he is going to date a man who bites he might as well embrace it.

 

Later, home from a day spent eating leftover cookies and brownies, Link lolls on Rhett’s sofa with his bare feet propped up in Rhett’s lap. Link is amazing at Family Feud, Rhett is in the midst of learning, and he shouts the answers at the TV like the contestants can hear him. Rhett doesn’t pay much attention to the show, instead dancing his fingers along the smooth planes of Link’s ankles. He has nice ankles, of course he does, and Rhett doesn’t mean to marvel at them but he does a little bit. If Link notices he takes it easy on Rhett for once and doesn’t tease. He’s too invested in the TV to notice, Rhett thinks, and that’s fine by him.

“I _said_ thirty!” Link cries, throwing his hands up and scowling at the man on TV. “I said thirty, didn’t you hear me say thirty?” It’s funny, just a bit, how he forgets the cadence in which he’s supposed to speak when he and Rhett are alone together. He doesn’t seem to notice he drops the _I’m four hundred years old and talk like a robot_ thing when he’s distracted. Rhett likes him better this way, when he’s not busy pretending with all his might to be undead. Rhett doesn’t tell him so. Hope bubbles up he is just now getting to see the beginnings of the real Link, the part of him that’s not mysterious or edgy or all that cool at all. And Rhett thinks he might still like him a hell of a lot.

“Thirty what?” Rhett asks.

“The question was ‘at what age did you peak in hotness?’ and I _said_ thirty. I mean, I can’t speak for myself because I’m over three hundred and fifty and I still haven’t peaked, but…that was my guess.” Okay, so he hasn’t forgotten his game entirely. Rhett rolls his eyes and tries to focus less on Link’s ankles and more on the TV. He even ignores the fact that he is almost forty himself and apparently Link finds him over the crest of the hotness peak. The show is nearly over when it cuts out, the evening news cutting in. 

“Breaking news coming from Los Angeles tonight,” a blonde news anchor says, face grim. “The search for a missing woman comes to a tragic end as her body is found just outside the city limits. Police are investigating what appears to be a homicide, the victim apparently drained of blood and left in a motel parking lot.” As the woman goes on Rhett doesn’t hear what she has to say. Link sits up fast, blue eyes wide, and he stares open mouthed at the TV. 

“What?” Rhett asks.

“Shh,” Link replies. He watches the news unfold, horror darkening his face, and when the news anchor says something about puncture wounds in the victim’s throat it clicks in Rhett’s head. 

“What, was that you?” he asks. He means it to sound lighthearted but Link doesn’t take it so. He buries his face in his hands, shaking his head, and when Rhett drops a hand to his shoulder and squeezes he starts. 

“I have to go,” he says, lifting his head. “Right now.” He stands and Rhett follows him to the front door of his place, close on his heels. He slips into his shoes and doesn’t look at Rhett. Rhett doesn’t try to stop him until he grabs his coat off its hook by the door and drags it on, doing up the buttons wrong in his haste. Rhett asks him where he’s going and he doesn’t reply. All he does is grab for the door and growl when Rhett steps in front of it. “I have to _leave_ , Rhett,” he says. Angry and anxious like this he looks positively feline, eyes narrow and teeth bared. Something not so good is going on and Rhett doesn’t like it, not one bit. He doesn’t like to be in the dark, especially considering the fiery look on Link’s pale face. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “ _Was_ that you? Please, God, tell me that wasn’t you.” It would be just Rhett’s luck to find the best lay of his life and have the guy turn out to be a serial killer. Link tries to dance around him and again Rhett stops him.

“Christ, you idiot, of course it wasn’t me!” he snaps, pushing Rhett out of the way and grabbing for the doorknob. He’s lithe and he gets around Rhett this time, yanking open the door and dashing out into the hall. 

“Are you off to kill whoever did it, then, tough guy?” Rhett asks, and Link whirls around on the heels of his stupid fancy boots and looks sharply at Rhett, eyes shining. 

“Don’t be a dick, Rhett,” he says. “Your sarcasm is going to get you in trouble someday.” He comes back to Rhett, three quick steps and the distance between them gone, and he gathers Rhett up in his arms like they are in a movie or something. “Don’t get yourself killed while I’m gone,” he says, and he kisses Rhett. His lips are cool and soft and then they’re gone with the rest of him, the last thing Rhett sees before Link vanishes down the hall the swishing of his wool coat. By the time Rhett shakes his head and gives up on Link returning for the night the news is onto something new and equally terrible. Rhett turns it off and tries not to think too much about the possibility of Link being a cold blooded killer.

There’s no way he could kill anyone. Is there? Even so Rhett has nightmares about Link ripping his throat out with his teeth and Rhett is glad he’s not sleeping beside him to see him wake up sweating. He needs to learn all there is to learn about Link before he loses his mind. Or his life. 

 

Link doesn’t show up to rehearsal the rest of the week. The kids notice, of course, and they pester Rhett nonstop, asking if they broke up and if Rhett has gotten his heart broken. 

“We weren’t even _dating_ ,” Rhett tells Amelia for the fifth time, hurrying Heather as she zips up the back of Amelia’s yellow ball gown. 

“Looked like you were dating to me,” Amelia replies as she admires the full effect of her Belle dress in the backstage mirror. It has to be tailored again, the waist too big and the skirt so long she falls on her face every time she tries to walk, but for now Rhett lets it go. He has a headache right between his eyes and he doesn’t want to be here fighting with bright yellow tulle. He wants to be home bemoaning his terrible life over a bowl of popcorn and Judge Judy. 

“It’s none of your concern, Amy,” he tells her, and she snaps at Rhett not to call her that. So he calls her Amy again. 

“You’re the worst teacher in the world,” she whines with no real venom, heaving her shoulders for dramatic effect. 

“I wouldn’t need to be if you weren’t the worst students,” he tells her.

“You’re so cranky when you aren’t getting any,” Rhett’s Gaston says, Adam skipping past Amelia and Rhett in his full costume. Rhett keeps telling him not to wear the damn thing so much in case he gets it dirty, the way he horses around. But he never listens- none of them ever _listen_ \- and they have the nerve to get offended when Rhett cuts rehearsal short. 

“Why don’t you call him instead of taking it out on us?” Ian asks, just gently enough to keep Rhett from smacking him on the back of the head. 

“If I hear one more comment about my personal life the play is off,” Rhett tells his cast, eliciting horrified gasps and cries of outrage. “I’m canceling the play, quitting my job, and moving to the Arctic. So please, do me a favor because I hate the snow. Stop talking about anything that doesn’t have to do with Beauty and the Beast. Can you manage that?” The kids go quiet and Rhett watches the furtive glances they shoot each other. Robbie comes up with something first, Rhett’s Beast shocking the rest of the cast by grinning for the first time since rehearsals started.

“It would sure be a _beauty_ ,” he says, so damn chuffed about whatever he’s going to say, “if you would _be our guest_ and stop being such a _beast_ about your crazy vampire ex-boyfriend.” The class stands in stunned silence for a beat before erupting, Amelia and Oliver collapsing in a heap on the floor from laughing. Ian and Adam clap Robbie on the back so hard he stumbles, tripping over Amelia and knocking down Trevor and Manny on his way to the floor. One moment Rhett’s cast stands before him and the next the lot of them are on the aisle of the auditorium in a pile, laughing and smacking each other with stray elbows and knees. All Rhett can do is watch and wait for the animals to calm down. He puts on a serious business face but no one falls for it, Heather standing up beside Rhett and dropping her head on his shoulder. 

“Don’t listen to them, Mr. McLaughlin,” she says in her singsong voice. “You can terrorize us all you want. We’ll still love you.” It’s a small comfort Rhett supposes he has to accept. 

“Speak for yourself!” Robbie cries from somewhere in the pile of squawking teenagers, and all right. It was a nice moment while it lasted. It takes the kids ten minutes to stop giggling and get up off the floor and by the time they’ve all brushed themselves off it’s time for them to head home. 

“Are we having rehearsal on Monday, Mr. McLaughlin, or are you quitting?” Heather asks, the last one out the door. 

“That’s yet to be seen,” he replies. He ushers her out of the auditorium and locks it behind them, shoving the keys into the pocket of his jeans. 

“Are you okay?” she asks next. She looks up at Rhett, face scrunched up against the setting sun, and he tells her he is.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Well, Link…” she says, but Rhett cuts her off.

“Is none of your business,” he says. “Yeah? Whether or not we have a half insane gothic assistant to help me the play must go on. So don’t worry.”

“It’s hard not to worry about you when you act like the world is ending,” Heather replies, and Rhett wasn’t aware he was doing anything of the sort. “Did he hurt you, Mr. M.? Because if he did, I’m going to have to hurt him.”

“He didn’t do anything,” he tells her. “And I would never ask you to go after a bloodsucking monster just for my honor.” All at once Heather gets quiet, pursing her lips and flicking her eyes away. It takes her a second to decide to speak, going slow like she might scare Rhett if she spits it out. 

“Mr. M.…” she begins, mulling over her words. “Listen, did you see the news? You don’t think maybe…you don’t think he might…you don’t think Link is a real vampire, do you? Do you think there’s any chance at all he…”

“Heather, stop that right now. He didn’t really have you convinced, did he?” Heather shuffles her feet and sighs. 

“Did you even _notice_ how much he acts like a vampire?” she asks. “He does things I wouldn’t even think to do. You know, if I was pretending to be one. And I’m a really, really good actress.”

“Like what, Heather?” Rhett asks. It’s chilly outside, the sun setting on them, and Heather wraps her arms around her body to quell her shivering. She leans against the cold brick wall of Rydell High and rolls her eyes up, sighing loud like Rhett is the cause of all the suffering in the world. And she holds out one small hand and begins to tick things off on her fingers. 

“He only comes inside for rehearsal once someone invites him,” she says. “He kind of…hovers outside until someone happens by to tell him to come in. Vampires can’t go in anywhere unless they’re invited, Mr. McLaughlin.” Try as he might Rhett can’t prove her wrong. He has invited Link in himself a handful of times, beckoning him in and watching him beam as Rhett waves his hand. Okay, so maybe he’s really devoted. Or shy. Maybe he feels it would be polite to wait for an invitation. Like that proves anything at all. Seeing Rhett’s lack of conviction Heather pushes off the wall and holds up another finger.

“Give me your hand, Mr. M.,” she says. She holds her free hand out and when Rhett hesitates she heaves a frustrated sigh and grabs for his right hand. On his middle finger he wears a heavy silver ring, the only gift from his family he still has. His grandfather gave it to him when he was a kid and told him to wear it once he grew into it. He wears it every couple of days, the thing too clunky to wear all the time. “Vampires are hurt by silver,” she says, tapping her fingers impatiently on the ornate ring. “It burns them. Link likes to touch your hands, Mr. M., he brushes his fingers all over them when you’re distracted. I bet you never even notice, but we do. We think it’s cute. But on the days you wear this hideous ring he won’t go anywhere near your hands!” Rhett laughs and she drops his hand, growing more agitated by the second. “You are impossible!” she cries. “The signs are all there and you’re refusing to see them!”

“A few coincidences just aren’t enough to convince me,” Rhett tells her.

“He goes red in the sun in seconds! He drank your blood! What else does he have to do before you believe him?” She’s angry now, stomping her foot as she speaks and going pink in the face, eyes narrow. And Rhett has no idea what to do. How a seventeen year old girl befuddles him so much is beyond him but Rhett does the best he can.

“Heather, calm down,” he says. “There is no such thing as vampires and even if there was, Link is not one of them. He’s an overenthusiastic role player and a lousy one at that. Can you please, for the love of God, just forget about it?” Okay, so maybe that’s not Rhett’s best. But it’s all he’s got. Heather fixes him with a look so sharp he almost takes a step back. She’s something else, Rhett’s Mrs. Potts is, and in the end she’s the one who steps back. 

“You know what, Mr. M.?” she asks, arms crossed over her chest. “You and Link are really, really cute together. I hope you work it out. Even though he is without a doubt a vampire who might just be killing people.” And here Rhett is again, never getting the last word, and he watches her stomp off across the parking lot to her car. When she peels out of the lot he calls after her like she can hear him. 

“There’s no such thing as vampires, Heather!” he cries. “Am I the only one around here not completely insane?!” The answering silence doesn’t tell Rhett much but he thinks he just might be.

 

The second Rhett gets home he kicks his shoes off, struggling out of his button down shirt and his belt. He leaves his clothes by the front door and collapses face first on the sofa in his underwear. The only thing left to do with his night is lament about the pitiful state of his life and wonder how the hell he let it happen. This is what he gets, Rhett supposes, for trying to go out and make some friends for once. He should have been happy eating lunch with Stevie and going home alone, his only friends an art teacher and the cast of Beauty and the Beast. But no, he got bored, and he _had_ to go and hook up with the craziest person in California. He just _had_ to give him a little too much of himself and he just _had_ to get all hurt when he did what everyone else does to him and fucked off. 

Okay, so he is being a little overdramatic. He is a drama teacher, after all, and it runs in his veins. He dangles his fingers down to the sky blue carpet of his living room and thinks about the likelihood of getting up and vacuuming tonight. There are crumbs embedded in the carpet and he should clean up but he already knows it’s not going to happen. He is going to lie here feeling sorry for himself and he is going to fall asleep here and wake up feeling terrible. He is going to drown his sorrows in Bloody Mary’s at Chimera and he is going to pick up another boy, one who hopefully wants only to keep Rhett’s blood in his body. 

Somewhere in his solo soliloquy Rhett ends up on the floor, staring at the ceiling. He mutters to himself about how much he hates his life and he waits either for a swift and painless death or a random neighbor to knock on his door looking for company. When neither comes he heaves a sigh and wonders how miserable he will be in the morning if he sleeps right here on the carpet. He is in the middle of trying to convince himself to stand when a thud comes from the front door. It doesn’t sound like a knock, more like someone colliding with the door, and Rhett is on his feet so fast he sees stars. 

“Hello?” he calls to the door, unsteady as he makes his way towards it. He stumbles over his pile of discarded clothes just in time to hear a gruff voice reply. 

“Rhett,” the voice says. “Rhett, can I come in?” Rhett doesn’t have to check the peephole to know who’s on the other side of the door. It’s Link. Head reeling, he yanks open the door to find Link weaving where he stands. There’s blood on his face Rhett can’t find the origin of and he holds his right shoulder with his hand, blood slipping through his fingers. He’s bleeding all over the hallway and before Rhett can decide whether to call the police or drag him inside Link makes the choice for him. His eyes roll up and Link collapses in Rhett’s arms.

 

Five minutes later Rhett has Link semi upright on the sofa, his eyes bleary behind his glasses as Rhett wipes blood from his face, and he winces sporadically as Rhett touches him.

“Where does it hurt?” Rhett asks as Link shies away from his hands for the eighteenth time. He holds a wet washcloth in one hand and it drips on the sofa and on Rhett’s bare legs, the water icy. He ignores it. Link shakes his head as Rhett’s hands rove to his face, pointing instead to the spot he holds with one hand on his shoulder. “Can I see?” Rhett asks. Again he shakes his head. “Then what the hell did you come here for, huh? If I can’t help you? What do you want?” A flicker of the Link Rhett knows lights up briefly in his eyes before it gets quashed again by pain. 

“Wanted to make sure you were all right,” he says through clenched teeth. He presses down harder on the wound just to the right of his collar bone and grimaces, paler than Rhett has ever seen him. There’s blood streaked across his cheek under the shadow of his tortoiseshell glasses and he doesn’t seem to care about that, rocking where he sits with his face tight. 

“Me?” Rhett asks. “Why?” 

“Dunno. Paranoia. I was hoping they hadn’t bothered to get to you.”

“They? The people who hurt you?” He nods. “Who are they?”

“The people who killed that girl,” he says, snatching the wet washcloth from Rhett and slapping it to his shoulder. Rhett looks away as it turns red. “I went to go see if I could find out who did it. And I did. I found them. I told them to…ow.” He grimaces, bearing down on his shoulder with his hand, and he exhales long and hard from between his teeth. “I told them to back off out of this part of the state. They didn’t like that.”

“What, did they stab you?” Rhett tries to get a look at Link’s wound and he dodges the touch.

“Shot me,” he replies. “I killed one of them. There were… _shit_. There were two. The other one I lost and I thought maybe…” He waves his hand weakly and cuts himself short. 

“Vampires can be shot, huh?” Rhett asks, and Link growls. 

“With silver bullets they can, moron,” he replies, voice sharp. Rhett is being petty and juvenile but he can’t help it; he is mad at Link for disappearing. Rhett takes another jab and Link’s jaw clenches as Rhett speaks.

“Okay, smart guy. If you’re a vampire, how can you bleed?” 

“I can get hurt, Rhett,” he says. “I can bleed. Christ, do you think I could get it up if I didn’t have a blood flow? Honestly, did you attend fifth grade biology or not?” He’s going to be mad at Rhett? Link’s really going to sit there and be mad at _him_? His blood boils despite Link’s blood flowing at a dangerous looking speed. 

“I’m done with this act, Link!” he cries, bristling. “Okay? Done! I know it’s twenty sixteen and people can have whatever messed up fetishes they want but enough is enough! You can’t sit here bleeding on my couch and expect me to believe a clan of killer vampires shot you for trying to stop them! Are you kidding me?” 

“What else do you think might have happened to me?” he asks, calm as Rhett is irate. “Do you think I shot myself for shits and giggles?”

“Maybe!” he cries. “You’re crazy, who knows what you might do trying to impress me?”

“Oh!” he laughs. “You think I’m pretending to be a vampire to impress you? You think I want to be this? You think I enjoy having to go off fighting for the honor of this city?”

“What are you, freaking Superman?” 

“I might as well be! I’m the only thing stopping the clan on the outskirts of the city from coming in and killing whoever they want whenever they want! I’m the only good thing you’ve got, Rhett, the only vampire who doesn’t want everyone in this city drained of blood and left in the gutters!” In his anger he lets go of his shoulder and he moans, dropping his head to his chest and crying out in pain. “Shit,” he gripes. “Shit, shit, shit.” Rhett grabs for his shoulder before Link can stop him and he takes a look to find a hole rimmed in red ripped through his T-shirt. There’s no way he’s sitting here talking to Rhett with a bullet hole in him but Rhett turns his shoulder to check and sure enough there’s an exit wound in the center of his shoulder blade. 

“You really did get shot,” Rhett says, and Link tells him,

“Duh.” He yanks away from Rhett and slaps the washcloth back on his wound, tongue between his teeth. “Told you.”

“Who really did it?” Rhett asks. There’s someone out there who Link thought wanted to kill him and if Link is worried Rhett is probably doomed. When he doesn’t reply Rhett asks him again, shaking him until he whimpers. 

“If you don’t believe me by now,” Link says, clamping one icy hand over Rhett’s to make him stop shaking him, “there’s no point in trying anymore. I came to see if you were all right. You are. So that’s it, then. Have a nice life.” He tries to stand and fails, falling back on the sofa and getting blood on the cushions. 

“Are you going to have that looked at?” Rhett asks as Link struggles to get back up.

“No,” he says. “Being undead tends to raise eyebrows at hospitals. I’ll heal. I just need to…to rest, and I’ll be fine.” He doesn’t look like anything short of morphine and a year of sleep will do him any good but who is Rhett to protest? He lets Link stand and he wobbles on his feet, eyes slipping closed for a moment he spends bleeding down his shirt. 

“So you didn’t lead anyone here, right? Any killers who might come after me to get to you?” Link weaves his way to the front door of Rhett’s apartment and sneers when he replies. 

“Not unless you believe in vampires,” he says. 

“I don’t.”

“Then no one is coming for you. Have fun living in denial. Don’t call me if you get cornered by a vampire who decides you’ll make a lovely midnight snack.” 

“I couldn’t call you anyway,” Rhett says as Link pulls open the door. “You never gave me your number.”

He looks at Rhett for a moment with a blank expression on his pretty, bloodied face. “Huh,” he says. “Fine. It’s for the best, then. Good luck with your play.”

“Thanks,” Rhett says. If this is a breakup it’s the strangest one he has ever had, Link hovering in the doorway dripping blood all over his hand. He wavers and Rhett tries to stand as still as he can to one up him.

“I wanted to storm out angry,” Link says.

“So go on, then.”

“But I sincerely hope you don’t get murdered by a vampire tonight.”

“That makes two of us. Get out, will you?” Link scowls, stepping outside the threshold of Rhett’s apartment and looking down at the inches separating his shoes from Rhett’s bare feet. 

“If you see a vampire,” he says, “keep in mind there’s not many ways to kill it.” Rhett tries to shut the door on him, miserable and angry and tired. Rhett hates him for making him feel close to crying, slamming the door and screaming. Rhett hates him for how sad he looks and Rhett hates him for making Rhett feel anything this awful at all. 

“Fuck off,” Rhett says.

“No, not until I can help keep you safe. _Listen_. Silver bullet. Wooden stake. Easy. You probably know that one.” He sticks one stupid Saint Laurent shoe into the door to keep Rhett from slamming it in his handsome, blood marred face. “Listen. Burning. Decapitation. That’s it. It’s not easy. Please, for the love of God, don’t let them in if you see them. They have to be invited in.” Rhett _especially_ hates him for spewing back all the bullshit Heather spat at him earlier. If they’re not in this together Rhett has no idea how the hell Link knows just what she said. He doesn’t care. All he wants is Link gone and he wants it now.

“Got it. They have to be invited. So why are you still here?” Rhett tries again to slam the door and Link doesn’t even blink as it bounces off his foot and smashes into Rhett’s. Okay, Rhett hates him more than ever for making his eyes water as he bounces on his good foot, the other one throbbing. 

“I just thought you might want a fair warning,” he says. “I’ll watch for you tonight but only for tonight. After that you’re on your own.”

“Great. Thanks. Fuck off before I make you.”

“And what could you do to me that hasn’t already been done?” he asks, and for that Rhett has no reply. So, foot aching and heart pounding, he tries one more time to slam the door on Link. Again he stops Rhett and he snarls, fury blurring his vision. He slams the door again and it bounces off Link; Rhett catches it and slams it again to the same effect. 

“I hate you,” Rhett tells Link as he stares at him, his brow furrowed and blood drying on his cheek. 

“You know what, Rhett?” he asks, and Rhett hates him for the way he wraps his tongue around Rhett’s name. “I hate myself, too, so you can fuck off with your attitude and your _I’m better than you_ act and your awful, hideous self-loathing. When you’re caught off guard, you’re a nice person. Hell, maybe even a good one. I hope you don’t let the compliment go to your head.” With one more sharp look at Rhett, Link whirls on his heels and waltzes away down the hall. Rhett hates Link for not giving him one goddamn chance to get the last word. So he shouts it after him. 

“Have a nice life, you messed up son of a bitch!” Rhett calls, and Link tosses his middle finger up at Rhett without looking back. Good. Fine. Whatever. He dashes into his apartment and slams the door, locking up and doing everything in his power to keep from screaming. He spends the next hour scrubbing blood off his furniture and cursing everything under the sun. It does nothing to make him feel better but he doesn’t stop. Right before he collapses into bed, sweaty and achy and sad, he checks out his bedroom window to see a shadow watching him.

Link stands under a streetlight just outside, watching the apartment like that’s a normal, sane thing to do. Like he has the right. Rhett waits for him to glance up at him to give Link the only thing he can. Rhett tosses his middle finger up at Link just like Link did to him and he finally, blissfully gets the last word. He drops into bed without waiting for Link to retaliate and in the morning Rhett tells himself there was no reason he lays awake for hours before drifting off to sleep.


	3. III

“Oh, baby, what happened?” Stevie asks the moment she sees Rhett. There’s no point in lying. She always sees straight through Rhett when he tries. He wants to make something up, tell her he spent the weekend forgetting Link over shots in a bar. That’s what he should do; it’s what she expects of him and the truth will only make her worry. All Rhett did was lie on the couch and watch Food Network. He wanted to go out and find someone a little less crazy to spend a night with, he really did. But he started thinking about Link’s cold hands and the heat of his mouth and that was it for him. Rhett figured he’ll never find anyone as talented with their tongue as Link and he might as well give up on the idea.

In the end he looks away from Stevie’s questioning eyes.

“Uh,” he says, Stevie picking at her salad as she waits for him to reply. 

“What?”

“Link and I had a fight,” he admits, looking anywhere but into Stevie’s face. The strange half choke and half gasp she emits tells him all he needs to know about her horror, anyway. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you like him,” she says like it’s obvious. But he corrects her.

“Liked.”

“So it’s over then? You broke it off?”

“Yeah,” he says. Like it didn’t hurt. Like it doesn’t. What was he thinking, getting attached to the lightness of Link’s voice and the iciness of his fingertips? He is an idiot of the highest magnitude and now he’s paying for it. He went and got attached to a guy he met at a nightclub and he sort of feels the world might be ending for it. Stevie is talking about taking him out to get his mind off Link until he groans and drops his forehead to the break room table with a thunk. 

“I’m never dating again,” he says as she coos, coming over to Rhett’s side of the table to check on his head. She makes Rhett look up at her, her eyes scanning his face, and she presses gentle fingers to his throbbing forehead. 

“Why not?” she asks. 

“I’m shit at it. I’m going to buy a cat right after work and I’m going to write sad poetry and I’m going to write sad poetry about my cat and I’m going to die alone.” Stevie’s kind smile turns down and Rhett is sorry he’s a shitty friend and he’s sorry he’s making her sad. But she holds Rhett’s chin in her hand and tells him,

“Rhett McLaughlin, I love you. You’re worthy of love. I’m sorry you don’t think you are right now. But you’ll remember sooner or later.” He accepts her kind words but he doesn’t agree with her, eating lunch in silence at his best friend’s side. When the lunch bell rings he finally tells her he loves her too and her face lights up. She looks beautiful when she smiles, like she could conquer the world with it. Rhett should tell her so but he doesn’t.

What he does tell her means a lot more. “I dunno what I would do without you, Stevie,” he tells her as she walks with him back to her room.

“Probably have a catastrophic meltdown,” she says, giving Rhett a playful push with one hand. 

“More likely than not.” She gives Rhett a stern look and tells him to keep his chin up before heading into her room and leaving him alone in the hall. Keep his chin up? No problem. He still has bruises under his chin, on the side of his neck where Link bit him. He feels crazy, stupid, like he has Link under his skin. He must be at least one of those things to be feeling like this. 

 

This day needs to end before Rhett loses his mind. He can’t believe it’s only Monday; he can’t fathom five whole days of trudging through class and rehearsal. It’s not like the kids would be lost without him if he pulled a Link and vanished. Hell, they would probably do better without him than with him. Nonetheless he makes his way to rehearsal once school lets out and he shoves open the auditorium door with his shoulder to the chatter of his cast. The moment he steps into the room he is swarmed, the kids like fire ants or bees or some equally awful insect as they dash to his side. 

“Miss Levine told us you’re not having a good day,” Amelia says, pressing a plate into Rhett’s hands. There’s a massive cupcake in the center, tipping sideways with pink icing and sprinkles. “So I made you a cupcake in Foods. It’s rosewater, Mr. McLaughlin! It’s my first time working with rosewater so I hope they don’t taste too much like soap…Mr. Anderson said that could happen if I’m not careful…” She gnaws at her lip, shrugging like it’s no big deal, but it is. Rhett is so touched by Amelia’s gesture he doesn’t even have it in him to be mad at Stevie for telling the kids on him. She was only trying to help, he supposes, and Amelia waits expectantly for him to try her cupcake. 

“Go on, Mr. M.,” Ian says. “She only spit in it once. Just try it!” Amelia elbows him sharply in the chest and beams up at Rhett, eyes bright. So maybe he doesn’t want to abandon these kids just yet. Maybe Amelia is enough to keep him from wanting to leave them in the middle of the woods or something to fend for themselves. He hasn’t quite decided yet. He ushers the kids away from himself and towards the stage to start rehearsal, Amelia tripping over Robbie’s shoes trying to watch him eat. 

“Is it good, Mr. M.?” she asks as Robbie scowls with her long brown hair in his mouth. He pushes away from her and she’s oblivious, beaming madly when Rhett tells her it’s the best cupcake he’s had in his entire life. “No way,” she says. “That can’t be true.”

“It is,” Rhett says, plunking down in a seat in the front row of the audience. Today they have to practice choreography and he can do better directing from here than from on the stage. He waits for the kids to grab their scripts and get settled, picking pieces off his cupcake and licking frosting off his fingers. He loves these kids. He loves each and every one of them, even Robbie as he bickers with Ian and even Adam as he practices walking like Gaston and spills a bucket of white paint across the stage. It must be the sugar rush clearing Rhett’s head but just the same he doesn’t know what he was thinking. He loves this, watching the play unfold, and so what if now and again the kids drive him crazy? They are all he’s got. 

When it comes time for Amelia and Robbie to dance to Heather’s rendition of Beauty and the Beast the two grumble, glowering at each other. They don’t get along, Rhett’s Belle and his Beast, and for the first act that’s fine by him. But they have to work together to make this play come alive, he tells them again and again, and still they’re not getting it. Robbie isn’t the easiest guy to get along with and Rhett sympathizes with Amelia but he’s magic when he’s acting and no one else can play Beast but him. He brings Beast to life every time he opens his mouth, Robbie does, and Rhett tries to tell him he has to be kinder to Amelia. He might as well be Beast with all the patience he has for her, rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up when she gets the giggles or steps on his toes. 

Still, when they work they work. Amelia had her lovesick look down on the day she was cast and it only gets better every time she looks at Robbie, no matter how sulky he is when he looks back. All Rhett has to do is keep them from fighting too much and their chemistry will make the play. 

“Robbie, if you don’t stop looking at her like you want to eat her instead of kiss her I’m going to find someone else to be Beast!” Rhett threatens. Robbie knows it’s an idle threat but even so he rolls his eyes, rolling his neck and getting back into starting position at center stage. 

“He’s just looking at her like Link looked at you,” Adam argues, and Heather gasps out loud. 

“Adam!” she cries, dumbstruck. “You can’t just _say_ stuff like that! Why do you have to be so mean?” 

“I’m not being mean, I’m telling the truth,” he shrugs. 

“You’re such a jerk, Adam!” Heather says. Rhett appreciates her having his back but he doesn’t need her to; he’s a grown man (at least he looks like one) and he can fight for himself. 

“You’re done for today,” Rhett tells his Gaston, and Adam’s mouth drops open. “Out.”

“Mr. M., I didn’t…” 

“I don’t care. I don’t have time for bickering right now. You hear me? Out.” 

“Mr. McLaughlin, you can’t just…”

“Out!” Rhett roars, and Adam moves so fast he looks like a puppet jerked on its strings. He throws his backpack on and Rhett has a headache blooming between his eyes again, the same old headache that tells him he needs a drink. “You can come back when you’re willing to play nice,” he calls after Adam, and he is shocked when he gets no snide remarks in reply. Maybe he is finally getting to Adam. Rhett turns back to the stage to face Heather, Amelia, and Robbie, and the three of them look at him like they don’t know what to say. 

“Where were we?” he asks, and just like that they do exactly as they are told for the rest of rehearsal. Robbie and Amelia practice their dance and don’t fight at all, moving smoothly across the stage as Heather sings. There are a few rough edges to Heather’s song they still have time to work out but Rhett tries to smooth some now. He sets the rest of the cast free, holding onto Heather and his two main characters for just a while longer. 

“You sound amazing, H,” Amelia tells Heather, and she plunks on the edge of the stage and crosses her ankles. After a moment of hesitation Robbie sits at her side. Rhett appreciates the few minutes here and there he gets when they don’t have anything to say to one another. It helps him remember why he likes this in the first place. 

“Mr. M.,” Heather says after one more run through of her song. 

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking for the spring play we should do Grease.”

“No,” Rhett replies. 

“But we’re even called Rydell High! Why can’t we do Grease, do you hate fun?” 

“I don’t hate fun. I just don’t particularly like Grease.” Rhett hops off the stage and his three stragglers follow him. 

“Then what play do you want to do?” Robbie asks. Up close he looks a lot less scary than he pretends he is from far off; up close he has kind eyes and an open face. Rhett can see how it gets easier over time for Amelia to pretend she loves him. Okay, that was the weirdest thought Rhett has ever had. He needs to get out of here. 

“I want to do Death of a Salesman,” Rhett jokes, laughing at the wails he draws from his cast. “Look,” he says, all but shoving the trio out the door in his haste. “If you guys can pull this play off, if you can be nice to each other on a daily basis and stop fighting over stupid shit…then we’ll talk. Okay?” 

“I call Rizzo!” Heather cheers, and the kids dash out into the fading sunshine and dance away from Rhett, even Robbie looking perky at the thought of trying out for another lead. 

“Ooh, I would _love_ to audition for Sandy,” Amelia says, a starry look in her eyes. Rhett knows that look; it’s the same look all future stars get. It’s the look he used to get before all of this, back when he thought he wanted to be the one onstage. It’s the look things like shitty boyfriends and failed auditions stamped out of him. Not like he thinks about it a lot or anything, the time he spent trying to be some big shot. He was a kid and it was a dumb dream and he doubts he could find that kid in himself even if he tried. He’s back in the middle of nowhere with his lousy family, most likely, and Rhett doesn’t care to get him back. 

He distracts himself and misses the girls waving goodbye as they share a ride home in Heather’s car until they’re almost out of the lot. He calls his goodbyes after them even though they can’t hear him and even Robbie offers a wave on his way out. What Rhett did to deserve the honor, he has no idea. He waves back at Robbie and faces a night alone, full of nothing but TV and ice cream.

Great.

 

Rhett doesn’t hear from Link the whole week. Not that he expected to, not after the stupid fight they had. Good relationships don’t come back from fights all the time and Rhett should stop expecting Link to come back to him after the way he treated him. Rhett doesn’t know how he always ends up here but he should be used to it by now. Not even the weirdest man he ever met could stick it out with him. What a shock. He wishes he could tell him he’s always this way, petty and mean, that it’s part of what Rhett does to keep himself guarded. 

Maybe this whole time Rhett was the crazy one and Link sane. After all, he did flee the moment he realized just how broken Rhett is. He has no idea when he became such a wreck but here he is, the biggest, sorriest loser in all of California. All this Rhett laments to Stevie over drinks at her place, Rhett’s head in his hands as he gets just a little too drunk on Friday night. 

“You’re not a loser,” she coos, one hand on Rhett’s thigh and the other steadying his drink as it sloshes in his hand. They were drinking wine and he finished that, prompting Stevie to dust off old champagne and open it for him. He almost spills it on her pristine sofa and her eyes are open wide with worry as she hovers her hands around his. It makes Rhett want to laugh almost as much as it makes him want to cry.

“I’m the biggest loser in the _country_ ,” he whines, glass clicking on his teeth. “In the world. Why do you even keep me around? All I do is moan and drink all your good shit.”

“This is a five dollar bottle,” she corrects, catching his glass as it teeters too far to one side. “And I think you’ve had enough of it. Are you sleeping here tonight?”

“No, no,” Rhett says. “I don’t want to burden you any longer with tales of my sad, awful life.”

“Oh, stop,” she says. She snatches his glass and carries it to the kitchen, dumping the rest of it down the drain over the sound of his protests. “You have a wonderful life. For starters, you have the very best friend in the entire world. You have students who adore you and you have that beautiful tea set I bought you last week for your birthday.”

“King of the world,” he drawls, and she nods, choosing to ignore his sarcasm. She pours herself the last of the champagne and makes her way back to him. Stevie curls up next to Rhett on the couch, running her free hand through her braid, restless. She feels sorry for him and he wishes she didn’t. Her pity only makes him feel sorrier. 

“I’ll set you up a bed on the couch,” she says. She’s worried. Rhett makes a grab for her glass but she pulls it away at the last second, gulping it just to keep it from him.

“No, no, I’m leaving,” he replies. Stevie watches his pathetic attempt to stand with a bemused expression on her face, pale eyes wide. 

“Are you?” she says. 

“The second I get up.” Again he tries and fails to stand, the world not quite staying still like it should. He tries to get his bearings, his knees shaky and limp, and in the end he manages. “See? I’m good. I’ll see you Monday.”

“I really don’t have a problem with you staying the night, Rhett,” she says, just because she is the very best friend in the world and she worries more than she should. 

“Where’s my damn coat?” Rhett replies. Exasperated, she hands it to him and even helps him do up the big plastic buttons down the front. 

“Please don’t pass out on the sidewalk and die of hypothermia,” she says, speaking of the unseasonable cold. “Here, let me get you a scarf.” She dashes away and comes back from her bedroom with a massive wool scarf in blood red, winding it around Rhett’s neck and tying it tight. “To keep the vampires away,” she smiles. 

“Hilarious,” he replies. He falls on his ass on Stevie’s front porch and she helps him stumble to his feet, saying something about her couch being perfectly comfortable, but he is having none of it. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he says, and he hops off the porch and pinwheels his arms to keep from falling again. 

“Be careful!” Stevie calls after him. “Text me when you get home, please!”

“Sure, Mom!” he replies. “Sure thing!” 

“You’re a menace, Rhett!”

“I love you, too!” he reaches the sidewalk, his legs more wobbly than he is willing to let Stevie see, and the moment he hears her front door close he grabs onto her fence to keep steady. He is going to throw up and it’s not going to be pretty but he tries to keep it down as long as he can. A few quick swallows and he’s ready to go, slow and messy but going just the same. It’s not a long walk back to his apartment but it might as well be a million miles for all the good his legs do him.

He is never getting this drunk again. He is never making googly eyes at a boy across a bar again and he is never, ever letting another boy get the better of him. But he is going to let champagne get the better of him. He heaves into a stranger’s bushes and hope they don’t see him, a pitiful high school drama teacher puking on their shrubs. By the time he manages to stop his limbs feel like rubber, his brain like Jell-O. If he wasn’t so drunk he might be able to call Stevie and ask her to rescue him less than a block from her house. But he can hardly see straight and he can’t even get his stupid voice recognition to work on his phone, the stupid thing unable to get _call Stevie_ out of his slurring. 

Fine. He’s fine. He can make it. What is he, a teenager out after getting drunk for the first time? He’s a grown-ass man and he can get home with a little bit of liquor in him, no problem. No problem at all. His knees seem to disagree and Rhett grimaces as they hit the pavement, waiting for the pain to get through the fog in his head. He climbs to his feet, knees throbbing, and he’s pretty sure one of them is bleeding. Just when he thinks he can’t get any more pathetic he ends up hobbling home on two scraped knees. 

Fine. He’s fine. But he can feel blood trickling down his shin and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t. So he’s going to have to buy new blue jeans. Who cares. Who fucking cares. Not Rhett. Maybe he’ll even buy Saint Laurent, dropping two weeks’ pay on a pair of freaking pants. That would show Link.

Wait. This isn’t what he wanted at all. He is not supposed to think about Link, his stupid _face_ and his stupid _eyes_ and that stupid, awful voice of his. No, Rhett is drunk because he’s trying to forget it. What the hell is wrong with him? He gives his head a shake and looks up from the sidewalk at the progress he has made. He is about thirty feet from where he barfed and that’s fine. It’s fine. He’ll make it if he has to walk all night. A car hesitates as it drives by Rhett, the owner probably wondering if they should call the police on him. They should. He would love that, to lie down in the back of a police car and sleep this off in a nice, warm cell. Hell, he begins to think of calling them himself. 

He can almost see his apartment building when he hears a crunch from behind him. He whirls around, the world whirling with him, and by the time his vision clears there’s nothing there. 

“Hello?” he calls anyway, as if whatever monster follows him would wave and say hello right back. Nothing moves and no one replies and it only takes Rhett thirty or so seconds to turn back around and head towards his place. He can see the building, the red brick beckoning, when he hears another crunch. Again he turns around to see nothing, not even an animal or a bloodsucking fiend. 

“Link?” he calls out to the open air just because he can. Not because he wants to taste his name or anything. Someone is watching Rhett, whoever hides and doesn’t reply, and he is too tired and too drunk to care. “If you’re going to kill me just get on with it, yeah?” He says to the darkness. “Otherwise, back off.” He waits for a beat and then two and nobody replies. Good. Fine. “That’s what I thought,” he says, taunting the night sky, and it’s fine. It’s all good. He has a bed to crawl into and never leave again. 

The moment Rhett turns around he can feel eyes on him. Okay, so maybe he cares a little bit. He doesn’t want to run, he really doesn’t, but more than that he doesn’t particularly feel like dying. So he picks up his pace and ignores the prickling on the back of his neck, a shiver rolling through him. Whatever follows keeps up. Rhett doesn’t hear them, not a breath or a footstep, but he feels them. Whether it’s a person or a person pretending not to be one, he doesn’t care. He just wants to get home before it eats him. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking but Rhett is starting to believe in something not quite human haunting this city. 

“I’m not afraid of ghosts!” He shoots over his shoulder. “Or werewolves! I’m not scared of…zombies…or…” He clears his throat, close enough to his building to see hope of surviving the night, and he finishes, “Or vampires.” He drops his keys three times before he manages to open the front door of the building, stumbling inside and slamming the lock back into place behind him. There. Good. He’s got a glass door between him and whoever is watching him. Like that will do any good if they want to eat him bad enough. 

“Fuck off,” he says to the empty street. “Leave me alone. I’m too tired for this shit.” A shadow emerges across the street and every trace of fake bravado vanishes. Rhett dashes to the elevator as fast as his legs will take him and slams his hand on the button for the tenth floor, sinking to the carpet as the elevator rises. His heart still hammers in his chest when he makes it to his apartment and locks the door. He really needs to stop running his mouth; he needs to stop being so damn loud. Something lurking on the sidewalk is going to get him. He’s doomed. Done for. 

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Rhett peers out his bedroom window and no one is there, no Link with a scowl on his face to protect him. All at once Rhett wishes he had his number; everywhere he glances he sees more shadows shaped suspiciously like people. Or people shaped things. In his desperation, Rhett’s heart beating too hard to sleep, he fumbles with his phone to try and type out Link’s name in the white pages. He messes up and deletes, his fingers clumsy, but in the end he manages to type out _Charles Neal_ and waits for the page to load. 

There are an awful lot of dead Charles Neal’s to sift through. Rhett scrolls past one who died in France in 1641 and finds nothing at all about a live one. Great. He’s unlisted or he’s using a fake name and Rhett doesn’t know which one bothers him more. So he thinks he can hang around at work with Rhett, hang around in his place with his head in Rhett’s lap, and he thinks he can disappear when Rhett actually needs him around? Screw him. _Screw_ him. Rhett throws his phone off the side of his bed and throws one arm over his eyes, figuring all he can do now is wait to sober up and hope he doesn’t get murdered by a bloodthirsty shadow in the meantime. 

Sleep doesn’t come easy and when it does he dreams about vampires, about bloodied teeth and shadows coming at him with teeth bared. He wakes up sweating just before dawn and throws himself onto the living room sofa, gnawing on ice to try and ease away the alcohol burning in his chest. The morning news is on and there’s nothing interesting going on, only a second body found drained of blood behind a bar. There’s a new dog park being built next door to some church and…wait. Rhett rewinds the TV, his heart somewhere in his throat, and he watches the story again. 

“A second body was found late last night,” the news anchor says, “bearing the same strange marks as the first victim found earlier this month.” It’s almost Halloween and the people of Los Angeles eat this shit up, interviewees gabbing about serial killers and monsters. It’s hard to watch, Rhett’s throat burning, and when they cut to an embalmer discussing the strange way in which the victims died he has to rush to the bathroom. He heaves on the tile floor, arms wrapped around the toilet, and this can’t be real. Monsters aren’t real. His stomach churns, hands shaking, and there has to be something else going on. There has to be more people like Link, sicker people than Link, who take this far too seriously. 

Rhett has to find him before he loses his mind. He won’t be any help and Rhett knows that; he’ll get that stupid look on his face like he knows something Rhett doesn’t and he’ll tell him monsters do exist. He have no idea why he feels he might be comforted by Link’s presence but the thought just won’t go away. The sun rises and Rhett lies on the bathroom floor and tries to keep the world from spinning away from him. It’s no easy task. His head pounds so painfully he feels like crying when his phone starts ringing from the other room, too far away from him to bother answering. When it finally goes quiet it starts ringing again and Rhett curses the day he was born as he rises up on his hands and knees and crawls to his room. He misses the second call and he scoops the phone up to see Stevie’s number on the screen. She’s probably worried the second victim was him, drunk and vulnerable on his own. He should call her back. 

The phone rings again, Stevie giving him no choice. He answers with a quick, “Hey, Stevie,” trying not to sound too sick or dead or drained of blood or anything. He doesn’t want her to worry about him even though he feels he might be at least one of those things. 

“Did you see the news?” she asks. Her voice is tight, sharp, and it makes Rhett’s head ache even more. He closes his eyes and wishes for death to take him. When it doesn’t he figures she’s still waiting for an answer. 

“Yes,” he tells her. “I wasn’t the one killed. Yay.” 

“Have you seen Link?” she asks, and Rhett groans out loud.

“Stevie, you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“You know the kids are going to ask you if he did it. They’ve gotten into their heads that he’s gone off to feed or something, I don’t know, Ian was going on and on about it in ceramics the other day. They’re going to have a _field day_ with this.”

“And I’m going to quit my job and become a dairy farmer.”

“You’re scared of cows.”

“Fair point. Even so, it has to be better than this.”

“Still wallowing, then?”

“Always.”

“Don’t let it kill you, Rhett,” she says, like that will ever happen. “You’ll be fine. You have to be happy sometime.”

“Wanna bet?” On the other line Stevie makes a strange sound of exasperation and Rhett doesn’t blame her. He can be pretty damn exasperating when he wants to be. 

“Just let me know if you happen to see Link, okay?” she asks, like there’s any chance in hell. Rhett tells her so, he tells her he scared Link off, and she sighs and says she’s not so sure. “I just have this weird feeling,” she says, and no matter how Rhett tries he can’t get her to tell him anything else. “I just have a _feeling_ , all right? Like there’s something weird going on and Link has something to do with it.”

“Yeah,” he says, about ready to hang up and do something stupid like head to Link’s apartment. “He’s killing people and I’m his accomplice. He’s turned me and we’re going to take over the city with our supernatural army.”

“You’re going to drive me to drink, Rhett,” she scolds, but there’s affection in her voice she can’t hide from him.

“I try,” he says, and after telling him to be careful for no reason at all she hangs up. Rhett sits on his bedroom floor and tries to talk himself out of hunting Link down and slamming him down on his stupid animal fur duvet. Assuming he’s home, assuming he hasn’t chosen to vanish in the night because Rhett is too close to discovering he’s a cold blooded killer. It’s a lot to assume but what else can Rhett do?

So he swallows four aspirin in the kitchen with a glass of water and heads out the door before he loses his nerve. He’s not going to wallow in misery missing Link’s horrible, sinful mouth forever, that’s all. He is just going to pop in and make sure Link doesn’t have body parts in jars in his fridge, maybe suck a few marks of his own into Link’s throat, but that’s all. He is not going to act the jilted lover because he is far from it; he’s going to be normal and sane and he’s not going to ask anything of Link he wouldn’t want to give him in return. 

The chilly morning air slaps some sense in him but even so he doesn’t turn back. He owes Rhett, the bastard, for vanishing and for telling him he could be good if he tried. Rhett’ll show him good. He’ll show him _great_. By the time he’s done with Link he’ll be half in love with Rhett, the poor asshole, and for once in his life Rhett is going to have the upper hand. 

He only mutters, “I hate my life,” to himself fifteen or so times on his walk and he counts that as a victory. He dodges people on bikes and people walking their dogs on the cold sidewalk. There are zombies crawling from graves in front lawns and fake cobwebs strung up in trees. He has nothing against Halloween. But the sight of the macabre and bloody decorations is more than a little unnerving. Rhett looks away as fast as he can and tries to ignore the ad for some scary movie plastered on a bus stop. 

“I hate my life,” Rhett tells the sharp toothed vampire looming on the poster. A man waiting for the bus raises his eyebrows at him and Rhett tells him, “Does it look like I’m talking to you?” He doesn’t know when Halloween started bringing out the worst in him but it was probably when a madman dropped into his life. After snapping at an innocent bystander he keeps his head down, crunching over dead leaves and resisting the urge to keep muttering to himself as he goes. He’s close to Chimera and Link’s building when he slams into something hard and unyielding. Rhett bounces off whoever he just body slammed and a pair of hands reaches out for him, slender hands clad in black leather gloves. And then the person speaks. 

“Honey!” the person cries. “Oh, honey, honey, I was just coming to check on you.” Rhett looks up, more confused he has ever been in his life. Because Link stands before him, his blue eyes wide, and he keeps calling Rhett _honey_ like it’s a normal thing to do. Like he didn’t abandon Rhett, like he didn’t tell Rhett to have a nice life. “Are you all right?” Link asks, and he guesses he’s not. He is standing in the middle of the sidewalk trying to remember what the hell he wanted with Link. He was storming to his place for a reason, something important he was going to do, but Link’s big hands are on his shoulders and he can’t remember. Link gives him a little shake and he tells him he’s fine, dammit, and he can let go at any time. But he doesn’t. And he looks _good_ , cheeks red in the sun and wool coat the same color as the sidewalk buttoned up to his throat. Instead of obeying Rhett Link pushes him off the sidewalk and into a shaded alley, pressing him to the cold brick wall of some shop and holding him there. 

“What’s wrong?” Link asks, voice all ragged and gravelly, and if he didn’t have Rhett pinned to the wall he would probably lose control of his knees and hit the ground. 

“You left me,” Rhett replies, because Link’s hands are too tight on his shoulders and his eyes are too piercing, too heavy. 

“I know,” he says. “I saw on the news. The second victim. I thought it might be…”

“What is with everyone thinking I’m going to end up vampire chow?” Rhett asks. He struggles against Link’s hands but he is way too strong for Rhett. He’s stuck. Even when he kicks out at Link he evades it, confusion marring his pretty face. 

“I was stupid,” he says, looking away from Rhett’s face to dodge a kick aimed at his shins. 

“No shit.”

“I led some of the killers directly to you. When I went to your place after they shot me. That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, Rhett, and when I saw there was another victim…” He shakes his head, artfully disheveled black hair falling over one eye. “I thought they got you.” He looks like the sorriest person to ever live, tired and haggard with worry, and good. Fine. Rhett is glad he’s sorry; he left him standing in a puddle of blood like it’s a normal snag in normal relationships. 

“It would serve you right if they got me, asshole.” Rhett kicks him and this time his sneaker makes contact, Link wincing as Rhett gets him right in the shin. 

“You’re right,” he says. “I was angry and I let you push me away. Believe me, Rhett, it won’t happen again.” He’s too damn close to Rhett, his body sliding closer the moment Rhett stops trying to kick him. “There are more of them out there. I don’t know whether or not they know who you are but it’s not a risk I’m going to take. Until I get rid of every last one of the monsters who think they can take my city you’re staying with me.” Briefly Rhett thinks of the warmth of Link’s bed, the luxurious satin sheets and the fireplace in the living room, but he shakes his head and remembers the reason he went after him.

Stevie thinks _he’s_ the killer and Rhett is supposed to make sure he’s not. Right. He can do that. Can’t he? 

“Stevie thinks you’re the murderer.” _Shit_. Rhett gulps, Link releasing him, and even as he backs off Rhett stays pressed to the cold building at his back. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says. He rakes both hands through his hair, turning away from Rhett and back to face him again, heat in the hard angles of his jaw. “I wouldn’t kill anyone,” he says.

“You killed someone the other week,” he replies. “You told me yourself.”

“Shit, Rhett, I mean I wouldn’t kill someone innocent! I’ll kill any killer who thinks he has the right to try and kill me!” 

“I think _I’m_ about to kill you.” In a split second Link has Rhett pinned again, this time taking both his wrists in one hand and pressing them to the wall over his head. He leans in close, standing on his toes, lips brushing Rhett’s ear, and he whispers a dare that makes him lose track of who the hell is killing who. 

“I’d like to see you try,” he breathes. 

“Uh,” Rhett replies.

“That’s what I thought.” And Rhett’s damn fingertips are numb, his hands tingling as Link nips with sharp teeth at his ear. Rhett hates him. He really, really hates him. Link presses soft kisses to the underside of his jaw, nothing like the biting, bruising kisses he’s used to. It’s nice, he supposes, his lips soft and as cold as the dry October morning. Rhett would never say, he would never admit, but…

“I missed you,” Link breathes, and all right. Link said it for him. 

“You too,” Rhett manages. And he did, didn’t he? He didn’t just miss him; he did something he hasn’t done in more years than he could count. Rhett _longed_ for him. How stupid is he? Link makes a sweet sound of contentment in Rhett’s ear, his breath warm on his throat. And he laughs. It’s a nice laugh, not his usual smug, self-satisfied chuckle. No, he’s genuinely laughing, sounding giddy with it, and before Rhett remembers how bizarre all of this is he starts to laugh with him. He raises his head, rising on his tiptoes to press his forehead to Rhett’s and smiling so close to Rhett’s mouth their lips whisper together, hot and cold. Rhett surges forward to try and capture Link’s lips but he pulls back at the last moment. 

“I’m sorry I left you,” he says, and before he’s even finished Rhett is replying. 

“I’m sorry I’m such a prick.”

“That’s all right,” he says, something sincere in the demure way he smiles, shy and something close to timid. “I’m a night crawler, a monster of the dark, and you’re a prick. I think we might go well together.”

“Until the other night crawlers come to kill me.”

“I won’t let them. There are a lot of them, Rhett, and only one of me. But I won’t let anything happen to you. They’ll have to go through me to get a _glimpse_ of you.”

“My hero.” And Rhett doesn’t know why he’s feeding into this shit, why he’s encouraging him, but they play a strange game of cat and mouse, Rhett and Link, and Rhett wants the chance to win. So Rhett can let Link think he has him; he can let him take Rhett back to his place and let Link kiss him in all the places he missed the most. Rhett can let him nuzzle into his thighs and kiss his way up his stomach. He can let Link purr his name, his sheets tossed over their heads to keep the light out, and he might be the craziest man alive but at least he’s living. It happens so fast Rhett can hardly keep track, Link leading him by the hand back to his place, up to his apartment on the very top floor, to his bedroom, to his bed. He bites hungry kisses into Rhett’s chest, into his throat, and good. Fine. Rhett tosses his head back to give him more and he groans, dragging his tongue up the side of Rhett’s neck. Good. Fine. 

Who has who now? 

 

Later, Rhett calls Stevie to tell her Link is not their killer. He waits until Link pads out of the bathroom to get a glass of water to call her. Even so, the moment he hears Rhett talking he’s upon him. He pulls Rhett by the hips to the edge of the bed where he kneels, crouched between Rhett’s legs, and as Stevie picks up the phone he bites hard into Rhett’s thigh. 

“Rhett? Are you okay? What was the noise?” So maybe the noise was him trying not to cry out at the heat of a certain killer’s mouth, but Stevie doesn’t need to know that. 

“Fine,” Rhett says. “Fine, fine. Listen, Stevie, Link isn’t the killer.”

“You found him!” she gasps, and yep. Yep, Rhett _definitely_ found him. He looks up at Rhett, eyes wicked, and he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up the inside of Rhett’s thigh. 

“Uh, yeah,” Rhett says. “I did.” 

“And he didn’t skin you alive and make you watch as he ate your organs?”

“Stevie, what the fuck.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m assuming that’s a no, then?”

“Yeah, Stevie, he didn’t… _ung_.” Link goes to work on Rhett’s thigh, sucking a mark into his skin, and Rhett grips him by the hair and tries to make him stop. 

“Uh, Rhett?” Stevie asks, voice tilting up with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he tells her. He’s not, not really, and the harder he pulls on Link’s hair the harder he bites. He’s loving this, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as Rhett yanks at loose raven strands. Rhett _hates_ him. Rhett is going to make him pay, he really is, but first he needs to get off the phone without making Stevie suspicious. 

“Rhett…” she says, and Rhett has definitely made her suspicious. She probably thinks he was kidnapped by Link and is in desperate need of help or something. Great. “Rhett, if you’re in danger, say _bananas_.”

“Really, Stevie?” he groans. Link’s mouth is sinful, his lips popping off Rhett’s thigh with a wet smack, and the moment he pulls off he goes back in. Rhett can’t believe this is his life.

“What?” Stevie asks. 

“Are you telling me our safe word is _bananas_?” he asks her. “Seriously? That’s the best you’ve got? Really, Stevie, how would I even say bananas without making my kidnapper suspicious?” 

“It’s easy!” Stevie shrieks, and he’s made her mad. If he didn’t think she would hunt him down he would hang up on her and let her stay mad. 

“Tell me…tell me how.” He tugs on Link’s hair and he’s being obscene, ridiculous, and Rhett is going to wipe that smirk off his face if it’s the last thing he does. He takes Rhett’s hand from his hair and holds it in both his own, pressing sloppy kisses to the center of his palm. Stevie is talking but Rhett doesn’t hear her, Link slipping Rhett’s fingers into his mouth, and he goes slack jawed and limp at the sensation. 

(If Link’s going to be the death of him, _this_ is how he wants to go.)

“Rhett, what are you _doing_?”

“What…what were we talking about?” Rhett asks her, heart hammering to the point of fluttering in his chest. 

“I was trying to tell you how to talk about bananas inconspicuously, Rhett, but obviously you’d rather just let yourself stay kidnapped forever!” 

“What can I say, Stevie? Stockholm syndrome is a helluva drug.” She tells Rhett she’s going to kill him if the killer doesn’t get him first but he knows she doesn’t mean it. Link is still sucking on Rhett’s fingers and he tells Stevie she’ll do nothing of the sort. 

“Just be safe, you big dope,” she says, and Rhett tells her he will. He tells her he has never in his life loved someone as much as he loves her and he appreciates her friendship more than words can say. The admission does nothing to comfort her, making her instead think Rhett is on his deathbed or something, but she’s had enough of Rhett for the day and she bids him goodbye. The moment she hangs up Rhett tosses his phone to the side, hooking his fingers over Link’s bottom teeth. In response he stiffens, parting his lips and looking up at Rhett through long eyelashes, and okay. He’s waiting for Rhett to make a move. Rhett is in charge. He’s got him.

“Are you afraid to lose me, Link?” Rhett asks him, and he nods. He _nods_ , and holy shit. This can’t be Rhett’s life. He _left_ Rhett; he’s a _hookup_ , a one night stand. And there’s real fear in his eyes. It isn’t hard to see. “What are you going to do to keep me?” Rhett takes his fingers out of Link’s mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and he looks unbelievable just like this, on his knees between Rhett’s. 

“Anything I have to,” he purrs. 

“I’m pretty high maintenance.”

“One of the things I like about you.”

“I need your undivided attention.”

“Done.”

“I need a new car.” Link’s lips quirk up.

“Done.” 

“A Cadillac.”

“Done.”

“No, wait. A Lamborghini.”

“Done.” 

“I need you to feed me grapes while I lounge naked in a pool of money.”

“Done, honeybee,” Link breathes. “Done and done.” He’s somber, face open. 

“And one more thing,” Rhett says.

“What’s that?” 

“I need you to drop the vampire act.” Link rolls his eyes, impatience flashing across his face, and he tells Rhett no. 

“That’s one thing I can’t give to you,” he says. “But…I don’t think you’ll care what I am by the time I’m done with you.” And this isn’t the end of Rhett’s fight for him to admit his humanity, not by a long shot, but he’s kissing up Rhett’s stomach and he doesn’t have fight left in him at the moment. 

“What are you?” Rhett asks him, Link’s hands sliding up to knead at Rhett’s thighs. 

“I’m the man who’s going to make you forget who _you_ are,” he replies, and all right. Good. Fine. Vampire or not, monster or man, Link has a damn pretty mouth. And he can do whatever he wants with it. 

 

Link’s return to rehearsals brings nothing short of pandemonium. The kids act like hyperactive puppies, tugging on Link’s limbs for attention. 

“Where were you?” Amelia asks, hanging off his arm. 

“We missed you!” Heather adds.

“Mr. M. was a menace while you were gone!” Ian says, and Rhett feels his cheeks go red as Link quirks an eyebrow up at him.

“Was he?” he asks. 

“He _was_! He was miserable, Link, and I’m so happy you’re back I could _cry_!” Heather says. She has her hands on her cheeks, beaming from ear to ear. Before the chaos can get too out of hand Rhett shuts them down as best he can.

“Cut the shit, you weird little critters, and get your asses onstage.” They obey Rhett by some miracle but they’re distracted, overacting to get a rise out of him and get Link to laugh. He threatens to kick him out and that gets their attention, Heather all but wailing they need him here. 

“Don’t let him boss you around, Link,” Amelia says, sashaying close to the edge of the stage in her massive tulle dress. “You’re always welcome here.” Link’s answering smirk scares the shit out of Rhett. He looks downright devilish as he thanks Amelia. 

“What are you so smug about?” Rhett whispers, leaning close to Link in the front row of the audience where they sit. 

“I’m always welcome here,” he says. His eyes are far from Rhett, playing instead across the stage and the kids as they practice blocking out the opening scene. “That means I don’t have to wait for someone to let me in anymore. I can come whenever I want now; I’ve got a permanent invitation.” He laughs out loud at Rhett as he groans, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Rhett’s cheek when the kids aren’t looking. “I can come and antagonize you anytime I want.”

“You always could,” Rhett tries, but it’s part of the whole vampire thing, he guesses, and Rhett lets him have it. He has too much on his plate right now to worry about whether Link is crazy or not. He’ll worry about it later, probably the next time Link is chowing down on his throat. At the moment he has to shout at Ian for the hundredth time for catching bugs and getting them in Amelia’s hair. The kid has it bad for her, he really does, and as Rhett chastises him he thinks he might have to pull Ian aside and put him out of his misery. Rhett should tell him antagonizing the girl he likes is for ten year olds. Come to think of it he should tell the same thing to Link.

“Mr. M., can you please kill Ian for me?” Amelia shrieks, Heather helping her pick a spider out of her up do. Ian stands by looking forlorn, his methods of wooing Amelia not working in the slightest. Rhett feels sorry for him but Amelia just isn’t as much of a sucker as Rhett is, he guesses. She knows better and Rhett should take a leaf out of her book. 

“I can’t kill Ian, Amy,” Rhett tells her. “We can’t have Beauty and the Beast without Lumiere, yeah?”

“Then I will kill him,” she says, shaking her hair out in his direction once Heather liberates the spider. 

“Try me!” Ian replies, and Link rolls his eyes at Rhett’s side as Ian raises up tight little fists like he’s going to actually fight her.

“Amelia, allow me to help,” Link says, and Amelia looks at him like he’s her goddamn hero. 

“Link, no,” Rhett says. Link ignores him and he slides down in his seat, visions of the play going up in flames flashing in his head. 

“Link, yes!” Amelia says. She lifts up her tulle skirt to sit on the stage, the yellow material flowing out on the floor around her. The rest of Rhett’s cast watches the show with varying shades of interest, some of them paying close attention and the rest messing around with their costumes. Heather is off to the side of the stage braiding Robbie’s hair, of all things. And Rhett appreciates his willingness to grow his hair for his role but the whole braiding thing is too much. There are too many kids to scold and not enough of Rhett and Amelia is impatient, asking Link to spill what he wants to say, and as soon as he does Rhett is screwed. He says it anyway.

“Ian is in love with you,” Link says with a wave of his hand. And just like that every face in the room turns to Ian. In turn he goes bright red, his mouth falling open, and Amelia claps her gloved hands to her mouth. 

“No!” she breathes. 

“Yes,” Link replies. Satisfied he’s done well ruining the play he leans back in his yellow plastic seat and folds his arms, so smug Rhett could scream. 

“No!” she says again, this time to Ian. If he was smart he would call bullshit. But he doesn’t. Weakly, looking more than a little green, he nods. The room erupts. Half the class cheers and the other half begins to chatter, the noise rising as Rhett slinks lower into his seat. Amelia is going to lose her mind and Rhett is going to lose his lead, the unrequited love between her and a supporting cast member the death of the play. It’s over; Rhett should pack up a bag and move far away where there are no teenagers to wreak havoc on his life. 

“Oh, Ian!” Amelia cries, and in the next moment she surprises everyone. She rises off the stage and throws herself into Ian’s arms, the poor kid nearly falling on his ass in shock. “I’ve only been flirting with you for months, you stupid idiot!” she cries. Ian recovers enough to wrap an arm around her middle and pull her close, dazed and blinking slow. 

“You have?” he asks. Rhett covers his eyes and sinks down so low in his seat his ass hangs half off it. He’s going to have an aneurysm; he’s going to die of heart failure or something equally stupid trying to live with these kids. His Belle and Lumiere share a passionate kiss center stage and Link begins to clap, getting them all going until the sound is tumultuous. 

So this is how life is now, then. Link sits at his side, faking sanity and a demure disposition, and he aims to make Rhett’s life as miserable as possible. And then there’s the kids, acting like animals and only doing it with more conviction when they see Rhett hiding in his seat. He’s exhausted, run ragged by the people who obviously want him dead, and it’s fine. It’s good. He guesses he has just decided he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

Later Rhett has Link in his bed, on top of the covers fully clothed, and Rhett is going to have to change that. He watches Rhett unbutton his jeans and he watches Rhett pull them down. He goes so far as to kick them off for him before collapsing down again on his back. Rhett hops into his lap, straddling his thighs, and he sits up, obedient, to let Rhett drag his shirt over his head. There’s no rush in his motion, no purpose in the way he lolls, and this is how Rhett likes him. No plan, nothing malicious, nothing weird or phony or strange. It’s just him, his body, the muscles in his chest and the pale skin of his throat. It isn’t until Rhett runs his fingers down Link’s Adam’s apple to the center of his chest that Rhett remembers the injury he bore last week. 

There’s nothing there now. No sign he ever had a gaping hole in his shoulder going straight through him. Rhett runs his fingers up and down the spot, where he’s sure it was, and Link must see the confusion in his face because he asks, 

“Why so serious?”

“You were shot, weren’t you?” Rhett asks, all at once not so sure it was anything but a strange dream.

“I was.”

“There’s nothing there now.”

“Right?” 

“You didn’t heal that fast.”

“No?” Link asks, snaking his hands up Rhett’s shirt to tweak at his nipples. “Then how do you explain it, love?” 

“You faked it.”

“Ha!” he scoffs. He massages at Rhett’s chest with expert fingers and Rhett doesn’t mean to but he lets his head loll just a little. Link lets out a sigh at the sight of Rhett’s exposed throat, surging up to cradle Rhett in his lap. His mouth is on Rhett’s neck before he can inhale to protest and by the time he licks at Rhett’s skin he forgets why he would want to, anyway. 

“How did you heal so fast?” Rhett manages, “if you didn’t fake it. Tell the truth.”

“I healed soon after I left your place,” he replies, tongue hot in the hollow of Rhett’s throat. He wraps his arms around Link’s neck and presses his fingernails into his skin just enough to make him start. “Vampires heal remarkably fast.”

“But you’re not a vampire.”

“And you’re not a drama teacher. You’re so deep in denial you’re drowning, Rhett.” He would protest, he would fight, but Link’s stupid teeth are at Rhett’s ear and he has all the time in the world to fight. Why do it now? 

After, Link drowsy and naked in Rhett’s bed, Rhett tells him he has to go home. He frowns without opening his eyes and tells Rhett no. 

“How am I going to keep you safe?” he asks, swatting at Rhett’s hand as he digs his fingers into Link’s ribs.

“You should have thought of that,” Rhett says, “before you killed a creature who has friends that want you dead.”

Link cracks one eye open. “You’re right,” he says. “I got cocky and I made a bad choice. I guess I’m not used to having something to lose.” Rhett ignores the implication that he’s the only thing Link’s ever been afraid of losing, the thought of being someone’s one and only nothing less than horrifying. 

“Well I’m sorry you made a bad call,” Rhett says, the struggle to keep his voice steady harder than he would ever admit. “But you’re not staying here. I have school in the morning and I can’t be up all night worrying about you taking a bite out of me in my sleep.”

Link’s mouth falls open, his eyebrows creasing together. “I would never bite you without permission,” he says. 

“No? Well, you can never bite me again if you don’t get out of my bed right now and go home.”

“Come with me,” he says, sliding his hand up to cup Rhett’s cheek in his palm. The tenderness in his touch is scary on its own, but paired with the plea to stay safe it slides past scary to terrifying. Rhett hardly has control as things are, Link the teacher’s aide Rhett might take home and sleep with after school. He can’t handle anything else. “Why does your heart race when I show you the smallest bit of affection?” he asks. _Shit_. Rhett opens his mouth to tell Link it does not, thank you very much, but his plump lips turn down and instead Rhett shakes his head.

“I just don’t do affection,” Rhett says, jabbing at Link’s chest with one finger. He watches Rhett do it and his frown dissipates, his lips turning back up into the smile Rhett loves. Oh, _shit_. Rhett backpedals, horror falling over him, and he buries his face in his hands and lets Link chuckle. Like he knows the word that just crossed Rhett’s mind, like he loves the panic Rhett feels at the word _love_. He loves cheeseburgers. He loves scary movies. He doesn’t love people, never mind people who pretend not to be people. 

“Can I stay the night if I pretend there isn’t the slightest chance I could fall in love with you at any moment?” 

“No,” Rhett says. “No, no.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t say shit like that. Don’t…”

“Don’t get too close to you? Don’t fight my way through your carefully constructed walls? Don’t kiss you like maybe…” He leans close and Rhett lets him, scared to breathe as he presses his forehead to Rhett’s. “It might mean something?” 

“Yeah,” Rhett says. “Please don’t ever do anything like that.”

“I’ll try my best,” Link breathes. “But I have to tell you being around you lowers drastically my self-control.” He kisses Rhett, his mouth soft and gentle and everything Rhett doesn’t want. Even so he accepts it; hell, he kisses back. Link purrs, sliding closer to Rhett in bed, and he must be some sort of cold-blooded reptile man or something, his hands cold and fingers colder. He smiles as Rhett shivers, pressing open mouthed kisses to the underside of Rhett’s jaw. 

“What do you say?” he breathes. “Let me stay the night. I promise to behave.” 

“And what if I tell you to leave? What will you do then?” He hums into Rhett’s skin and replies,

“I would more likely than not hover worriedly outside your apartment all night. Out there all alone in the cold. Wondering if I’ve managed to get the hottest boy in all of California killed with my idiocy.” 

“Hmm,” Rhett replies. “You are sort of an idiot.”

“How so?”

“You’re already in love with me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I can tell. I wish you weren’t.”

“I doubt there is any man who could see you like this and keep from feeling the same.” He dips his head to mouth at Rhett’s throat, down to his collarbone and back up again. Rhett buries a hand in his hair, pulling at silky locks, and in reply he groans. 

“You’d be surprised,” Rhett says.

“Well tell me now, Rhett, before you break what’s left of my old heart. Can you live with me being smitten with you? Can you live with me doing all I can to make up for the impending threat of death coming for you?”

Rhett thinks about it. “I guess so,” he says, making sure to speak nice and slow. “As long as you don’t act like a horny teenager every time you look at me. No lusting and no dramatic sighs when I walk into a room. No touching me when we’re at work, remember? I told you that already.”

“Forgive me my short memory,” Link breathes into the hollow of Rhett’s throat. God, it’s sinful, the cold press of his lips. 

“Sure,” Rhett replies. “And try not to let me actually die, yeah?” 

“No one will ever touch you,” he vows. “Not while I’m around.” 

“And if they kill you before you kill them?” 

“I won’t let that happen.”

“Link, you’re insane.”

“Am I?”

“Are you ever going to cut the crap?”

“Probably not.”

“Do you ever get tired of pretending to be something you’re not?”

“Do you?” His question catches Rhett off guard. He pulls away from Link’s mouth and he whimpers, trying to get back at Rhett’s throat. But he presses a hand to Link’s chest to keep him at bay and he waits, lips parted, for Rhett to speak. 

“What am I, then?” Rhett asks.

“A man who wants love a lot more than he lets on.”

“You don’t know me.” 

“I know you love the kids and you pretend you don’t. I know you love your job and you pretend you don’t. Is it unreasonable for me to assume you only pretend to hate love, too?”

Rhett thinks about it while Link looks at him like he thinks he’s got Rhett sussed. And he hates it; the feeling of someone who thinks they want to know everything about him. Like having Rhett like this isn’t enough, like he’s thirsty for more. He hates it. He feels vulnerable, open, and how Link does it to him, he has no idea. 

“Someday I’m going to get to the bottom of all the stories you tell,” Rhett says, because he can crave knowledge, too. “I’m going to find out what makes you tic and what makes you lie and you’re going to tell me the truth.”

“Oh?” Link says.

“Yes. And I’m going to make you pay for making me feel this way.”

“What way?” 

“Like I’m going to let you figure me out.” And there’s nothing more to say. Rhett has admitted something, God knows what, and Link spends the next minute smothering him in kisses. Before long he’s on top of Rhett, naked and glorious and beaming. 

“I’m going to learn everything there is to know,” he says, “and then I’m going to go looking for more.”

“Good luck,” Rhett breathes. “You’ll need it.”

“You overestimate your depth, sweet thing,” he says, and Rhett’s going to pen a list the first chance he gets of vetoed pet names. _Honeybee_ and _sweet thing_ already top the list. 

“Do I? I could say the same of you.” 

“Maybe so. I guess you will just have to find out.” And he kisses Rhett, long and hard and deep, and this is how he really likes it. Rough, dirty, quick, two bodies. Two people who crave touch and nothing more. If he can’t have that…he supposes a night of Link is the next best thing.


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! this chapter contains a somewhat detailed description of a past suicide attempt. the story in which the suicide attempt is contained is integral to the story as a whole, so if you dont want to read the whole thing but want to know the important details, dont hesitate to ask for the condensed version! <3

“No. Absolutely not. Never, ever in all my life.” 

“But you would look so _good_ , Rhett. I would die.”

“Good. Maybe then you’d leave me alone.” 

“I wouldn’t,” Link says. “Now please, please come with me.”

“I don’t like needles, Link. That’s final.” Together Rhett and Link walk by a sign for the high school’s blood drive and Link stares wistfully as they pass. 

“I’ll hold your hand,” he offers. “God, I can’t even tell you how _hot_ it’s making me just _thinking_ about watching them take your blood…” He sighs, longing, and Rhett hopes no one hears him as he speaks. He’s been on Rhett all week, since last Monday when the posters went up, and no matter how many times Rhett tells him he’s not so good with needles he keeps trying. The drive is today and he still hasn’t let up, insistent they at least go and check it out before leaving the school. Sure, Rhett can do that. He can follow Link, watching his long legs clad in skintight jeans, and he can mingle and say hello to the students brave enough to let a needle anywhere near them. 

“It would be so hot, Rhett,” he says, probably for the thousandth time, and Rhett doesn’t like the wicked gleam in his eyes one bit. 

“You know what else would be hot? You shutting the hell up for once.” In reply Link rolls his eyes. A side effect of whatever the hell they are is Link growing immune to Rhett’s cynicism. He hardly even frowns anymore when Rhett goes beyond sarcastic and slips into rude; come to think of it, Rhett’s jabs seem to make him only smile wider. The guy is a masochist or something. There’s no other explanation. But Rhett is following him around, to a blood drive, no less, so what does that make him?

“You’ll see your kids doing it and you’ll be so proud of them you’ll decide to do it yourself,” Link says, and all right. That will be the day. The day Rhett gives a tenth of his blood through a needle is the day he grows wings and flies. He’s not doing it, no way in hell, but he lets Link lead the way to the gym where the drive is being held, his hand slipping cold into Rhett’s. There are booths set up across the room as far as Rhett can see, people bustling around and talking and filling out forms. Ian is giving blood and so is Adam, the two of them gabbing as the drive volunteers get ready for them. It’s just Rhett’s luck the boys don’t see him first. Amelia does. She’s too small to donate so instead she volunteers, carrying juice boxes and cookies to the donors as they leave. She dashes to Rhett’s side, the pink feathers in her hair bobbing in her face, and she beams.

“Here to donate?” she asks, and Link cranes his neck to watch a woman carrying a pouch full of blood. 

“No,” Rhett says at the same time as Link says,

“Yes, he is.”

“Not you, Link?” she asks. She pouts, her lip jutting out, and there’s no way Link will be able to say no to that face. But he does. 

“No,” he says. “I have a lifelong pathological fear of blood,” he lies through his stupidly pointy teeth. “Rhett, on the other hand, would love to donate. Where can he sign up?” Amelia points to the back of the gym where there’s a line of donors waiting to fill out paperwork and tells Rhett she’s proud of him for being so brave. 

“I’m, uh, I wasn’t…”

“Mr. McLaughlin, you know you can save a lot of people with just one donation.” Amelia pouts at Rhett and he’s no stranger to the look, having taught her since she was fourteen. He won’t fall for it now. He can’t do this; everywhere there’s packets of blood and needles and other horrific things, and Link practically foams at the mouth at the sight of them. The sick bastard. Rhett can’t believe he let himself get dragged down here for Link’s blood fetish. He is going to pass out right here just _looking_ at all the blood leaving bodies in the room. But Amelia looks so earnest, so anxious and sincere, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he’d even survive to take the entire plate of cookies off Amelia’s hands. 

“Think of all those people,” Link wheedles, and one minute Rhett is saying no for the millionth time and the next he’s sitting in a hard plastic chair answering questions spoken by a kind faced woman. 

“Are you feeling well today?” she asks, and if Link doesn’t stop hovering at Rhett’s back he’s getting out of this chair and running away. It makes him nervous, the thirst with which Link stares, but he’s shaking too hard to ask him to stop. If Rhett opens his mouth for anything but answering questions monosyllabically he’s going to throw up.

“Yes,” Rhett says.

“Are you currently taking antibiotics?” the woman asks.

“Nope.”

“Are you currently taking any other medication?” 

“Nope.” She asks what feels like dozens of questions, Rhett’s head feeling heavier with each one. He can’t do this; he has to bolt. But when he tries his legs are too shaky and he ends up tumbling back down into his seat without Link or the Red Cross nurse even noticing. 

“In the past twelve months have you had a tattoo?”

“Nope.” 

“Have you had a body piercing?” 

“Nope.”

“Have you had sexual contact with another man?” Rhett freezes, his robotic _nope_ sticking halfway out of his mouth and coming out like a weak sigh. Behind him he feels Link freeze, too. “Was that a no?” the woman asks. 

“Uh,” he says. “No, no, that’s a…”

“That’s a massive yes,” Link intervenes. “A big fat freakin’ yes; we had _sexual contact_ this morning. Is that all right?” The woman’s eyes flick up to Link over Rhett’s head and then back down to Rhett where he’s trying his best to melt into the floor. 

“Actually, we can’t accept donations from…from...ahh...” the woman says, struggling to come up with the least offensive thing she could say, and Rhett can hear Link’s mouth drop open before he speaks. 

“No?” he asks, guessing the outcome of her sentence. “And why not?” Rhett peeks around the room and thanks God no one in his class can hear this, most of them far out of earshot. The only people listening to this nonsense are the woman and Rhett. 

“It isn’t anything against your lifestyle or anything like that,” she says, and Rhett mouths an apology at her for Link he doesn’t think she sees. She’s too busy letting Link scare the living daylights out of her. Rhett can only imagine the look on his face as he rips into her, the Red Cross, and the awful, homophobic world as a whole. 

“It’s two thousand and sixteen, no?” he asks, and the woman cowers a bit behind her clipboard. “Since when is it okay to discriminate based on sexual orientation? Are you really telling me a willing, healthy donor can’t give blood because he likes it up the ass now and again?” 

“I’m sorry,” the nurse says, and if Link keeps going she’s going to cry. And he does. 

“I can’t believe all the parades…all the crusades, everything I’ve fought for, all the useless marching, and it’s two thousand and _friggin'_ sixteen and a man who likes cock can’t donate blood that will save lives!”

“I’m sorry,” the nurse says again as Rhett sinks lower and lower into his chair. “If it was up to me…”

“Who is it up to, then?” Link asks. “I want to talk to them. Maybe slit a throat or two.”

“Okay, if you’re going to threaten…”

“Link, stop, just forget it,” Rhett tries to interject. His voice is too quiet almost for even him to hear, his head in his hands. The only part of Rhett the nurse and Link can see is his ears and he’s sure they’re bright red with embarrassment. He is going to kill Link for this; he’s at _work_ , he has to be _normal_ here. He can’t have a vampire ranting and raving about social justice, his brow furrowed and his voice rising. He won’t ever hear the end of it, not from anyone. 

“If you would like to contact Red Cross directly, I’m sure they would get back to you about the issue…” The nurse still tries to smooth things over and Rhett appreciates her valiant but useless effort. 

“This is unbelievable,” Link says. “Just unbelievable. I can’t believe I worked my ass off my whole life to make sure people like me could be accepted. And for what? To be told I’m not allowed to save people because I like boys? That’s just bullshit. Complete and total bullshit.”

“Before you scream loud enough to wake the dead can I please say I agree with you?” the nurse says, and finally Link calms just enough for Rhett to get his attention. 

“You do?” he asks her, and as she nods Rhett makes a grab for his arm. 

“Come on, babe, let’s just go. Yeah?” Link’s response is instantaneous. He brushes past the horrified nurse and Rhett watches him go, storming off out of the gym, and he turns back to the nurse with all the blood in his body burning in his cheeks. “I’m so, so sorry,” he tells her. “I really am.”

“I am, too,” she mumbles, and she dabs at one eye with the back of her hand. “I didn’t mean to make him so upset.”

“It’s okay. He’s always like that. Please tell me I can still have a cookie. I need it.” The nurse grants Rhett as much and he steals three from Amelia, brushing off her questions about why Link stormed out without looking at her. He follows Link out of the gym and down the hall just in time to see him slip into the employee bathroom, something in his hand held tight to his chest. With his mouth full of chocolate chip cookies Rhett follows him. He shoves his way through the door ready to tell Link he’s only an employee because he allows it but the threat dies in his throat.

Link is sitting on the counter by the sink with a fresh pint of blood held in both his hands. He messes with the top, trying to get it open, and when he can’t get it with his fingers he shrugs and goes at the plastic with his teeth. 

“Uh…” Rhett says, because if he doesn’t say something he’s going to throw up. 

“You called me babe,” Link replies, and shit. Shit, he did.

“It was just to get you to listen to me,” Rhett says. It was, wasn’t it? It definitely was. There’s no other reason for Rhett to call him something silly like that. Link spits out a bit of plastic, dotted red with blood, and before Rhett can stop him he sticks the spout of the pouch in his mouth. “Link!” Rhett cries through his hands. He’s going to be sick; this can’t be happening. But it is, Link’s eyes closing as he hums in pleasure, the sick lunatic actually, literally, honest to God drinking blood. He drinks it like a goddamn juice box, his long legs dangling off the bathroom counter, and okay. Rhett needs to throw up. Link asks him if he’s all right as he dives into a stall, dropping to his knees to dry heave into the toilet. 

“Don’t talk to me!” Rhett replies. 

“You called me babe,” Link reminds him, and he drops his head to the porcelain toilet and tries his best not to panic. It’s just his boyfriend is sitting in the bathroom drinking blood, blood stolen from a high school drive. No big deal. There’s nothing weird there. Rhett’s stomach twists as he listens to Link sucking up the blood from his pouch, his shoes tapping rhythmically on the wall. 

“Link?” Rhett asks.

“Hmm?”

“Whose blood is that?”

Link laps up blood for a moment and pauses. “I dunno. Why?”

“Why did you steal that? It’s a blood drive, Link, people need that.”

“Vampires need blood, too.” 

“But that could have saved lives, Link.”

“Well it certainly just saved mine. I can’t go forever without drinking blood, Rhett, and are you really upset I stole a pint of blood from those assholes instead of snatching up a stranger for it? Your morals are fucked, my love. Truly fucked.” Rhett pokes his head out from the stall to find Link examining the empty pouch, drips of scarlet blood on his fingertips from the spout. “Ah,” he says, and his eyes flicker to Rhett. He doesn’t like the grin on his face, not one bit. He’s almost scared to ask what the problem is, but Link’s going to tell Rhett whether he likes it or not. 

“What?” he asks.

“It’s Robbie’s,” Link says. “It’s quite good; he has such an attitude I would think it would reflect in his blood. But it doesn’t. It’s actually quite sweet. Do you want to try it?” Link pokes his tongue out to lap the blood from his fingers and Rhett can’t believe this is a man he let into his bedroom, never mind his mouth. 

“You just drank a pint of Robbie Hanson’s blood,” Rhett says. 

“Yeah,” Link replies. He shrugs, checking the pouch for drips and licking up the leftovers on the sides. “It was not nearly as good as yours, though.”

“You just drank my Beast’s blood.”

“I did. Are you all right? You look a little bit green.”

“I’m going to pass out,” Rhett says, and Link hops off the counter to his side. The pouch in his hand almost touches Rhett’s face and he leaps back, falling on his ass on the linoleum floor. “Get that away from me!” 

“What?” he asks. “You don’t like blood?”

“I don’t like teenage boy blood so close to my damn face, Link. Get it away from me before I…ugh.” Rhett closes his eyes and buries his face in his hands, positive Link is going to do something crazy like suck him dry if he passes out. He doesn’t want to die here in the employee bathroom at the high school, never mind at the hands of his psychotic should-be-ex boyfriend. 

“Oh, honey, you’re so cute when you’re squeamish,” Link coos, and Rhett listens to him toss the pouch of blood into the trash and close the lid. “I didn’t know,” he says. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Did what?” 

“Link!” 

“Oh, stole from a charity? I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t, actually,” Rhett mumbles into his hands. He wills the world to stop spinning away from him, the edges of his vision dark, and the longer he sits the slower his racing heart begins to beat. 

“Oh. Well I’m sorry. I’m just mad, that’s all. Rhett, do you have any idea how many times I’ve marched in pride parades? How many times I’ve fought for my rights, for yours? I mean, sure, things are better than they were twenty years ago. But to think you can’t donate blood because of who you sleep with? You don’t think that’s not even a little bit fucked?”

“It’s fucked,” Rhett says. “But that’s not what I’m freaking out about, you idiot.”

“Oh.” And Link sounds genuinely baffled, like he’s confused as to what bothers Rhett, and as his vision clears he raises his head and looks up at him. 

“Help me up.” Link obeys, scooping Rhett off the floor and helping him to his feet. Towering over Link again he feels a little bit better. “Do you enjoy that?” Rhett asks. “Do you really enjoy drinking blood to prove a point to me? Is that what gets you off?” He can still smell the blood in the air, heavy and coppery and thick, and he covers his mouth with one hand and tries to keep steady. “How can you even put that in your mouth? Never mind _swallow_.” 

Link’s bemused expression lifts, his mouth quirking up. “You know, my stepfather once asked me the same question when he caught me sucking off the pastor’s son.” 

Rhett chooses to ignore Link’s attempts to frazzle him further, his head spinning enough as it is. “I can’t do this,” Rhett says. “I just am not cut out to date someone who drinks blood. I can deal with pretending. I can deal with the weird roleplaying and showing up to my place dripping blood. I can handle a lot. But not this. You can’t just sit there and pretend it’s a normal thing to do, that people can just drink blood. You’re insane. Completely insane. I need to go. I have to be somewhere. I have to get away from you right now before…” Link steps into Rhett’s space and gives him a hard look.

“You know what, Rhett?” he asks. “Can we make a deal?”

“No.”

“If I can prove to you right now that I am a vampire will you please not dump me in a high school bathroom? That’s just embarrassing.” 

“It’s too late,” Rhett says. “It’s done, I’ve already done it.”

“That was you breaking up with me?”

“Mhm,” Rhett says. Link takes a step closer, his shoes scuffing against Rhett’s, and all he can do is freeze as Link slides a hand on his shoulder. 

“Let me show you a thing or two before you decide,” he says. 

“You have shown me enough for the rest of my life, thank you very much,” Rhett replies. Link’s mouth finds his jaw, his favorite spot, and he touches his lips to Rhett’s skin like a whisper. 

“Please don’t make me beg, honeybee,” he breathes. “I’m sorry I scared you. Just give me one chance to scare you a little bit more.” 

“As tempting as that sounds, I don’t feel up to anymore scares today,” Rhett tell him, and he looks startled as Rhett pushes him back. “What would you show me, anyway? Are you gonna turn into a bat or something? Because _that_ is something I’d like to see.” Link smiles, his hand still tight on Rhett’s shoulder.

“I can’t do that,” he says. “But I do have some tricks up my sleeve.” 

“Yeah?” Rhett says. “Prove it.” 

 

So maybe Rhett’s curiosity gets the best of him. Maybe he’s stupid or maybe he’s just stupid for Link. Either way, twenty minutes later the two of them stand outside, close together on the roof of the school. The sun beats down hard on them and Link’s cheeks are bright red, his neck and his hands turning pink just as fast. He glares up at the sun, his pupils reduced to almost nothing, and he frowns at it before looking back down to Rhett. 

“What do you want to see first?” he asks. 

“Jump off the roof,” Rhett replies. There has to be a limit to his insanity and Rhett is going to find it. But Link looks over the edge, the ground three stories down, and he shrugs. 

“Done,” he says. And then he’s gone. He climbs up on the concrete ledge separating him from a grisly death and he jumps, feet first, hopping off the roof and vanishing from sight. For a long moment Rhett pauses, horrified, waiting for a splat that never comes. He listens hard, no sounds at all except for the sound of cars passing by on the street beyond the school. 

Well, that’s that then. Link got himself killed trying to show off and Rhett’s going to have to go down there and scrape him off the pavement. He tries to will himself to peek over the edge of the building, heart beating fast enough to blur his vision, but before he can Link’s head pops up over the ledge. 

“Hi,” he says. He leaps over the edge, landing catlike on all fours on the roof, and he walks to Rhett’s side like nothing happened. “What now?” Instead of replying Rhett pushes past him, darting to the edge of the building. He must have faked it, grabbing hold of something and then hauling himself back up. But there’s nothing there, the wall made of brick and nothing more, and Link asks Rhett what he’s doing.

“I’m trying to figure out what you just did.” He leans far over the edge, as far as he can without falling over, and Link shouts for him to be careful. “I am, I am,” he replies. There is nothing on the wall Link could have clung to, nothing at all. Okay, fine. So maybe he has freakishly strong hands and he managed to hang onto the ledge instead of falling. That doesn’t prove anything except something Rhett already knew; he might be insane but he’s good with his hands. Rhett turns back to him to find him even redder, his lips parted as he pants like a dog. So the sun doesn’t agree with him. That’s nothing special, either. Doesn’t prove a thing. 

“What now?” he asks again. He’s struggling in the sun and if Rhett was nicer he would put him out of his misery and let him go inside. But he’s not. 

“What happens if you stay in the sun too long?”

“I’ve never waited long enough to find out,” he says, and Rhett rolls his eyes. Of course not. “But I’ve heard if I stand still for long enough I’ll burst into flames. I’ve never seen it happen but with the way I am feeling now I wouldn’t be surprised.” He presses the back of one hand to his forehead, grimacing in pain, and Rhett takes a step closer to him. 

“Would it hurt if I touched you?” Rhett asks. “Like a sunburn?”

“That’s what it is, Rhett. Yes, it would hurt.” Rhett steps close enough to reach him and brushes his fingers across Link’s cheek. He howls, eyes squeezing shut behind his glasses, and he grabs Rhett’s wrist and clutches it tight enough to hurt. “Why would you do that?” he asks, wounded. 

“I just wanted to see if you were lying.”

“Well, are you satisfied I’m not?” 

“Not yet.”

“What else do you need from me, Rhett? Tell me and I will do it.” The lengths to which he will go to keep from losing Rhett is the scariest thing about him, even with the blood drinking and the superhuman ability to land a three story fall unscathed. 

“You know what? Just kill me. Suck my blood and kill me.” Horror crosses Link’s pretty face, his eyes narrowing. 

“Try again,” he says. 

“Stand here until you catch fire.”

“I would rather not.”

“Break something big.”

“Ah,” Link says. “I can do that.” He turns away, balling his hand into a delicate fist, but as he aims it at the concrete ledge of the building it proves not to be delicate at all. He punches a hole straight through the concrete, pieces and dust flying up into the air, and he pulls back and blows dirt off his knuckles. Okay. So that was impressive. Still, maybe he has some sort of disorder, that disease that makes people immune to pain, and maybe he drinks a lot of milk to keep his bones from shattering. 

“Uh,” Rhett says, and Link smiles.

“Did I do it? Did I convince you?”

“Not yet,” Rhett says, feeling nothing less than panicked. He can’t be this deep in denial; He can’t be this stupid to still not see something different in Link. So he’s not human. That’s fine. He can accept that. But he can’t be a vampire. Maybe he’s an alien, a Kryptonian or something, or maybe he’s one of those madmen from Ripley’s Believe it or Not, the kind who pull trains with their nipples. Vampires aren’t _real_. They aren’t. But Link is turning an alarming shade of red, his sharp jaw clenched tight, and in the end Rhett relents. “I have some ideas,” he says, and it’s Link’s turn to follow him. 

 

Rhett picks his silver ring up off the nightstand in his bedroom and holds it out to Link, the metal cold between his fingers. “Touch it,” he says. Link shakes his head. 

“It burns me, asshole. I’m not going to scorch myself just so you can…” Rhett frowns and Link cuts himself off, his broad shoulders slumping down. “All right, fine. But I expect you to kiss it better once I burn a hole in myself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rhett says. “Do it.” With a dramatic rolling of his eyes Link holds one hand out and Rhett drops the ring into his outstretched palm. And it hits his skin with a sizzle. He groans, the ring turning his skin first pink and then red, and as soon as it bites through the first layer of skin Rhett snatches it out of his hand.

“What the fuck,” Rhett says, and Link nods.

“I told you.” Rhett makes a grab for Link’s hand and pulls it close, cradling it in both his own. There’s a ring shaped blister in the middle of his palm, angry and red and bubbling. 

“Oh my God.”

“I know. Did you think I was lying?” Rhett goes to touch the blistered skin and Link pulls away, sticking his tongue out to press it to his palm. 

“Does that really help?” Rhett asks. Glumly, he nods. 

“Mhm. My venom numbs it until it can heal.” Grimacing a bit, eyebrows creased together, Link examines his hand before dropping it down to his side. “Satisfied?” 

“Yes,” Rhett says. 

“Yes?” Shock opens up his face, his eyes flying from his injured palm to Rhett’s face. 

“Yes.”

“So you…”

“I believe you. You’re a vampire. Yay.” Link pauses, eyeing Rhett like he doesn’t believe _him_ , and all at once he cheers. He grins, his mouth wide open, and he throws his arms around Rhett’s neck and drags him close. 

“Oh, baby!” he crows, crushing Rhett to his chest. “Baby, baby, I can’t believe you finally believe me!” Rhett can’t believe it, either. Link’s arms are tight around his middle, his body pressed flush to Rhett’s. So his boyfriend is the living dead. Undead. He doesn’t know. Hooray. Rhett snakes his arms around Link’s neck and Rhett returning his embrace only elates him more. He pulls back just enough to press kisses to Rhett’s face, attacking his cheek, his chin, his jaw. 

“Hey now!” Rhett tries, but there’s no stopping Link once he gets started. 

“You believe me!” he crows. “You believe me, you believe me!” He makes a strange strangled sort of noise and pulls Rhett close again, his arms locked tight around Rhett’s middle. Rhett stumbles with him and tightens his hold on his boy, his boy who Rhett thinks he has to admit might be a bit too old for him. “Oh, Rhett, I thought I was never going to get you!” he cries. “I thought I was going to have to snap a neck with my bare hands to get you to see and I was really not looking forward to it one bit…”

“Shut up,” Rhett says. “Shut up, shut up.” He loosens his hold on Link and he whines, pressing closer, but Rhett hushes him and takes hold of his face in both hands. His cheeks are cool and his lips parted, pale face gleeful as his eyes rove over Rhett’s. 

“What?” he asks. 

“Shut up.” Rhett has his palms pressed to Link’s cheeks, the pads of his thumbs on Link’s cheekbones. He looks up at Rhett with vulnerability he would never expect to see in a monster, a man who has been undead longer than Rhett’s family tree has been alive. Time has given him patience, it seems, and he waits for Rhett as he looks into his face. He’s pale as always, healed from the sun minutes after coming inside, and Rhett has told him he believes him and there’s no going back. So what? So Rhett believes his boyfriend is a vampire. He is allowed to believe whatever he wants. And he’s allowed to be whatever he wants. It’s two thousand and sixteen, after all. 

“What are you…?”

“Hush.” Link’s mouth twitches up and he obeys. Rhett turns his face with both hands, examining his pale skin from a different angle. Link lets him, pliant in his palms. Okay, so he looks the same as he did when Rhett met him weeks ago. Nothing is different except Rhett knows what he is now. He is the same man who has followed Rhett to rehearsals and helped paint sets, getting white paint in his black hair. He is the man the kids love, the man _Rhett_ might…the man Rhett spied across a crowded nightclub. He turns Link’s face again, his eyes catching the light coming in from Rhett’s living room window. 

“I need to ask you some questions,” Rhett says.

“Go on,” Link replies.

“Why haven’t you sucked my blood and killed me yet?”

“Because I _like_ you?”

“I thought vampires tended to eat the people they liked. That’s why they don’t get close to people.”

Link chuckles. “I don’t get close to people because I don’t particularly like them as a whole,” he corrects. “I don’t avoid people because I want to eat them. I have a decent amount of self-control.” 

“Do you? You bit me the first day we met.”

“I guess that’s true. I just haven’t ever seen a throat I liked as much as yours. I’m sorry I actually, you know, sucked your blood a little bit. I won’t do it again.” He smiles, wrapping one hand around the hand Rhett has on his face. “Unless, of course, you ask me to.” Link presses Rhett’s palm to his lips, kissing him before baring his teeth and sinking them gingerly into the meat of Rhett’s hand. Rhett watches him, not moving, and just when it starts to hurt he lets go. 

“No, thank you,” Rhett replies.

“Fine,” he says. “Any other questions?” 

“Yeah. Why d’you need to wear glasses if you’re a vampire? Shouldn’t that…fix that?”

Link chuckles, giving his head a little shake, adjusting his tortoiseshell glasses following the reminder they sit perched on his nose. “Contrary to popular belief, vampirism doesn’t cure you of the ailments that plagued you as a human. Anything else?” 

“Yes,” Rhett says, accepting the answer despite how much of vampire lore it negates in his mind. “How many people have you slept with?” Link drops Rhett’s hand, surprise widening his eyes. 

“I’m a vampire,” he says. “I drink blood to live, I catch fire in the sun. I’ve come to your place to bleed on your carpet and you’re asking me…”

“How many people have you slept with? You’ve been alive a long time, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s a reasonable question. I can’t be the first. I can’t be the _hundredth_. Just tell me, Link, I can take it. I just want to know.” Link blinks at Rhett, stepping away, and Rhett drops his hand to his side and waits for Link to recover. He stammers for a moment before giving up and starting over.

“I don’t want to tell you that,” he says. “Can’t you ask me how many people I’ve killed or something?”

“We’ll get to that, babe,” Rhett say. He doesn’t mean to call him that but now he’s started it’s going to be hard to stop, the term of endearment slipping out as easy as his name. For now Rhett lets it slide; it makes Link’s eyes light up and he likes how it looks on him too much to take it back. “Just tell me and we can move on.”

“I haven’t kept records, Rhett, it’s not like…”

“So it’s hundreds, isn’t it?” 

“Rhett! It’s not hundreds, Christ, do you think I’m some sort of sex obsessed maniac?”

“That’s kind of what you are,” Rhett replies. Link throws his hands up, turning away from Rhett and back again. Part of Rhett thinks he should put Link out of his misery and tell him to forget it, but the way he shies away intrigues Rhett far too much to give in now. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me!”

“Nope.”

“Link! Link, darling, baby, angel! Tell me how many men have had the pleasure of seeing you orgasm before I decide I don’t believe you anymore!” He blinks again, lost in the things Rhett calls him, and he knows he shouldn’t but he just wants to _know_. 

“A lot,” he finally says. “Okay? A lot. I don’t know how many, but it’s a lot.” Rhett doesn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t this, Link pleading with the way he speaks. He doesn’t want to scare Rhett off. “But can I tell you something else?” he asks.

“Shoot.”

“I’ve slept with a lot of people,” he says, palms out towards Rhett, not quite close enough to touch. “But do you want to know how many I’ve made love to?”

“No,” Rhett scoffs.

“Four. Four, Rhett. Do you want to learn a little more about me?”

“No,” Rhett says, petulant despite being the idiot who asked for it. 

“I fell in love with a boy in San Francisco who broke my heart,” he says. “He was the first. The second was a man I dated for ages. A man I thought I could marry. And he broke my heart, too. He couldn’t be with a man, he said. He wasn’t gay, he said, and I was just a fluke. Even so, that wasn’t the worst of them. The third was the worst. I was so in love with him, Rhett, so in love it hurt. And guess what? He lived through the nineties, he was stupid, and the best thing that ever happened to me died of AIDS in 2004. And he was the last. The one who made me swear off people, swear off sex and affection and stupid things like love.” He pauses and Rhett takes the opportunity to tell him, 

“That’s only three.”

“You’re an idiot, Rhett,” he says, shocking him into silence. He doesn’t say it unkindly. Just like it’s the truth. Fine. Rhett’s being an idiot; he’s being an asshole. He can accept as much. Really, what the hell else is new? “It’s you, Rhett. You’re the fourth. I can’t believe I even have to say it.”

“Oh.” 

“I know.” Link has his arms folded across his chest, closing himself off from Rhett, and he doesn’t blame him. He always does this, doesn’t he? Shit. 

“So you’re telling me you never loved anyone until San Francisco?”

“No,” he says. 

“But weren’t you born in…”

“I was lying.”

“What?” Link lowers his eyes, shrinking down, and he nods. 

“I’m sorry. I do that to everyone. I feel like it’s more impressive to be this big scary…thing. This guy who was born in the Middle Ages, this guy who’s seen everything.”

“But…if you’re not that, then who are you?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Tell me everything,” Rhett says, and Link asks him if he really wants to know. If he doesn’t want to say forget it and go back, if he wants to see all the parts of Link he hasn’t shared in longer than he can remember. 

“Are you sure you don’t like me how I am?” he tries. 

“I do. I just want to know more. All of it. Everything.” 

He takes a deep breath and Rhett’s hungry for it, for all the things he doesn’t know. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’m going to tell you the story of my life. I hope you don’t mind if it takes a while.” And Rhett doesn’t. Not one bit. 

 

Link fixes two mugs of hot chocolate, dropping mini marshmallows into the steaming cups, and he and Rhett sit cross legged on the sofa. He faces Rhett and Rhett faces him and he takes a sip of his drink as Rhett waits for him to speak. He had no idea vampires could drink anything but blood but Rhett doesn’t think now is the time to mention it. Link looks too somber to tease, far away as he gets ready to tell the story of his life. The real story. Link uses dainty fingers to pick a marshmallow from his cocoa and pop it into his mouth, licking chocolate off his fingertips. And Rhett can’t stop staring; he watches his every move. He’s electric and Rhett is electrified. 

“I was born in North Carolina in 1978,” he says. Slow. Careful. Mulling over every word. And Rhett knows nothing about patience himself but this is something he can wait for. “I was an only child and I couldn’t have made my parents more miserable. I was into men from a very young age, you see, and they tried everything to get me to change my mind. Like they could! My father was a country man and my mother the kind of mother who volunteered for everything, a mother who knew everyone in the community and was loved by them all. They felt sorry for her and the burden she carried having a gay son. Like it _was_ the Middle Ages! They tried to scare it out of me. They tried beating it out of me, threatening, even backing boys I took home up against the wall and threatening _them_.” Link loses interest in his cocoa and in Rhett, his mouth turned down and his voice bitter. Rhett doesn’t blame him. And his story is close to Rhett’s so far, close enough to take him back to the house in which he cowered, hiding from the shouting of his parents. He doesn’t mean to but he reaches for Link’s hand. 

“Lending comfort?” he asks, and Rhett shrugs.

“If that’s what you want.” And Rhett’s no stranger to touch but he is to intimacy, to the feeling of Link lining his fingers up with his and squeezing. He hasn’t decided yet how close he is to running. There’s still time, after all; Link hasn’t given Rhett all of him just yet. But he opens his mouth and Rhett lets him spill it out, his words coming slow and then fast. 

“Anyway, when I turned eighteen I left home and I never went back. I fled to San Francisco. I heard it was the place to be for people like me. For people who had no idea what they were or what they wanted except for the things their families couldn’t give them. So I went. And it was everything I dreamed it was. There were so many people who were just like me, Rhett. People who loved me from the moment they met me and took me in like they were old friends.” His eyes glisten and it’s a pretty picture, the one he paints with his mouth, and Rhett has never been to San Francisco but he thinks he might want to give it a try. 

“I was an idiot and I didn’t know I was too young to fall in love,” he says. “I met a boy and he was gorgeous, older than me and far more experienced. He was a dancer, the hottest thing in the city, and I wanted him with everything I had. And he had a soft spot for me, for the lost little boy who hated his daddy, and he took me to bed and told me to call him just that. I did. I loved him and I loved him too much, and he knew I was falling and he still held onto me.” Link’s jaw tightens and Rhett wants to rip the limbs from the man who made him feel like this, like he’s anything but perfect as he is. “He was the first in a long line of people who weren’t so good to me. The second was just younger than me, running away from home at seventeen. And I loved him, too. He was soft and young and nothing like the hardened people I lived with. He liked to say my name and it rolled off his tongue so well, like it was poetry. And he went home in the end. Wouldn’t let me go with him. He said he was straight, anyhow, and he was only playing with me. He was confused and he was sorry but being sorry didn’t really make me feel better.” 

He pauses for so long Rhett feels he ought to say something. “I’m sorry, too,” Rhett says. Link’s narrowed eyes open up at the sound of Rhett’s voice, like he forgot Rhett’s presence. 

“It’s all right,” he says. He pinches at the back of Rhett’s hand with his fingernails for a moment, absentminded and restless. When he speaks again his voice is quiet enough to make Rhett have to lean in close to hear. “The third was the worst,” he says for the second time. “His name was Alex and he was everything. The sun, the moon, the trees. All of it. He called me Link, never Charles, never Lincoln. He talked so much of marrying me, so intense and so sincere, and I didn’t know. We always…he never…he didn’t give it to me. He was careful. But he never even told me. I had to find out when he ended up in the hospital. It wasn’t long after that that I lost him. And I just…I just broke, I guess. I had had enough.” He squeezes Rhett’s fingers too tight and Rhett lets him. He looks beautiful just like this, brittle and fierce and scared all at once. Open. Lost. More than Rhett has ever seen of him, laid out in front of him. 

“What happened?” Rhett asks when Link fails to go on. 

“I killed myself,” he says. “Or I tried. I jumped off a bridge, an overpass, but the fall didn’t kill me right away. It was the middle of the night when I did it, you see, and no one was around to find me. Except the vampire who smelled my blood. If you want to drain someone, it kills them. But if you want another vampire, if you want to keep them something close to alive…” He goes quiet, closing his eyes. Rhett waits. 

“He turned me,” he says. “He thought I was too young, too pretty and fragile to die, and he turned me instead of killing me. All you have to do is make the person you want to turn drink a bit of your blood, just a drop. And then you drink theirs. That’s it. That’s how it’s done, and that’s what happened to me. It was Halloween, 2004. I was twenty six years old and I wanted to die. But I didn’t get to. My death was taken from me and so was my life. In the end, the vampire who turned me was killed for doing so. He was a young vampire, you see, and his clan believed someone willing to commit suicide would not make a good vampire. I was weak willed, they thought, and when he got angry and fought them they ripped his head off for it. All this I was told years later by another vampire, one who doesn’t really matter now, one who saw me on the streets and realized I was the same as them.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I’m not a good story teller. I’ve just never told this story before.”

Rhett has to swallow hard, mouth dry, before he can reply. “It’s okay, babe. I can follow just fine.” 

“Stop calling me that if you don’t mean it.”

Rhett thinks of telling him he could mean it if given the time. But in the end Rhett tells him, “I’m sorry,” and asks him to go on. 

“It took me a long time to accept what I was,” Link says. “A lot longer than it took for me to accept I was gay, that’s for sure. I wandered the state for years, bouncing from home to home, boy to boy, name to name. I always changed it back then. But I usually went by Alex. It wasn’t healthy. I was sick all the time; no one told me how to eat and how to stay full and how to stay well. I was bone thin, empty and sad and scared. Eventually, maybe five years after I was changed, I ran into a girl. The first female vampire I had ever met. She was beautiful. She had this long red hair and bright blue eyes. And she was the only one to ever teach me things. She told me she had been in the area since the Gold Rush and had learned a long time ago what she had to do to live. I gained weight and I learned how to feed properly. She taught me how to calculate how much time I had before sunrise and she taught me how to detach myself from people. She was the only one to tell me I wasn’t human and it was time to stop acting like it. At first I was mad. Horrified. But in the end I paid attention. She and I lived together for a long time and one morning she was gone. I don’t know where she went or if she’s even alive. But she was the kindest person I have ever met.” Link wipes at his nose with the back of his hand and Rhett supposes if vampires can bleed they can cry. But it’s the last thing he wants to see.

“Do you need to stop?” Rhett asks. Right away he shakes his head.

“I’m almost done. Let me finish.” And there’s no protesting that. Next week is the twelfth anniversary of the day Link died and Rhett is not going to stop him from telling his tale. 

“Okay.” Rhett is still clutching his hand, anyway, palm sweating despite the coolness of Link’s skin, and he doesn’t plan on letting go. 

“After she disappeared I sort of wished I was dead for a while,” he says. “Truly pathetic, wandering lost. But I had a feeling I should head towards home. So I did. I got as far as Mississippi before I decided there was no home for me in the south anymore. So I came here to the outskirts of Hollywood, where I always dreamed of living, and I didn’t know much about the world but I had some ideas. I made some very smart investments, my bank accounts under Alex Davis’s name, and I made a lot of money. More than I have any idea what to do with. It was luck, or maybe something else. I don’t know. But that’s it. That’s where you found me. I have nothing much to do, you see. I have everything I need to live comfortably for the foreseeable future. It was two thousand thirteen, I think, when I decided this was where I was going to stay, and I did. I haunt nightclubs and make a show, luring people in for some company and something to eat now and then. At least, that was what I used to do. Before I met you.”

“And now?” Rhett gulps. “What will you do with your time now?” 

“Spend as much as I can with you,” he says, and why the hell doesn’t that scare Rhett? Why is he still sitting here clutching Link’s hand like it’s all right? Like he’s actually going to let this broken, damaged boy fall in love with him? There was a man who stood here with fury in his face, a man who stood here and left Rhett when he refused to believe him. He’s not here now. In his place is Link, the real thing, the vampire who has just given Rhett everything. 

He doesn’t know if he wants to go back or not but it’s too late to ask for it now. 

“Right,” Rhett says. And Link should be the same age as Rhett, thirty-eight years under his belt, crinkles by his eyes. He shouldn’t be here sitting with Rhett, twenty six and beautiful. This shouldn’t be happening, any of this, not the cocoa cooling in Rhett’s hand nor the man sitting on his sofa.

“Have I scared you?” he asks, voice low. 

“Yes,” Rhett replies. 

“Are you scared of me, then?”

“No.” 

“Do you think you might be interested, then, in dating a man so much younger than you?” 

“Ah, shush.” Rhett buries his face in his hands and just like that the spell is broken, Link dropping the somber tone in his voice and chuckling, light. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. Don’t be upset with me.” He pulls Rhett’s hands from his face and makes Rhett look at him, his smile wide and his canine teeth gleaming. Rhett wasn’t worried before, about how many lives those teeth have ended, but he is worried about it now. 

“I’m not,” he says.

“Good.”

“I can’t believe my boyfriend is in his twenties,” Rhett laments, teasing, feeling brave. “What does that say about me?” Link’s echoing laughter is the best thing Rhett has ever heard. He recovers, wiping at his eyes, and he takes in a deep breath before speaking.

“Listen,” he says, going somber, “before we end this conversation and I let you go back to your defensive, irascible, beautiful self, let me tell you one thing.”

“What’s that?” 

“I can’t tell you enough,” he says, “how thankful I am you let me tell my story. It’s not a story I have ever told from beginning to end. I didn’t realize just how therapeutic it would be. Rhett, I feel I could move the stars.” He beams, bright and anything but living dead, and Rhett spills the truth. 

“I gotta tell you, Link, I feel I could do the same.” He tangles Rhett up in his arms and kisses him hard and doesn’t let him go until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i welcome messages of all kinds at reedytenors on tumblr. thank you for reading! <3


	5. V

“I did spend some time as a lion tamer but that was a long time ago and I doubt I remember how to do it now. I would more likely than not get eaten alive if I tried.” Link spins stories for Rhett’s kids, sitting with them on the edge of the stage towards the end of rehearsals. It’s Halloween and Rhett is cutting it short for them, Amelia still in the process of begging to borrow her Belle dress to go trick-or-treating in. Rhett keeps telling her how much it cost to get it made so well but she still begs him, giving doe eyes and pulling on his arm. 

“Oh, just let her have it,” Link says, winking at Rhett when Amelia’s not looking. “If she gets the dress dirty you can fire her from the play and replace her with a freshman.” Amelia screams in horror, clapping her hands over her mouth, and Link laughs so hard he falls on his back onstage. He clutches his stomach, Amelia telling Rhett she doesn’t really need the dress that bad, and by the time Link sits up and wipes his eyes it’s time for the kids to go home.

“You’re not going to fire me, Mr. M., are you?” Amelia asks. 

“I wouldn’t fire you if I could have anyone in the world,” Rhett tells her. She leaves happy and the kids file from the auditorium, waving as they go. Rhett waves back, telling them to bring him back all the Reese’s they get in exchange for less time painting sets, and once they’re gone he locks the door behind them.

“We’re not going home?” Link asks, because somehow this week Rhett’s shitty apartment has become home. Link even has a toothbrush in Rhett’s bathroom, an electric one that sits beside Rhett’s. If he was slightly less mature or slightly more juvenile he might be scared of something like that. But he’s not and he’s not and a toothbrush is just fine with Rhett. But the longer he thinks about how good their toothbrushes look together the faster his heart beats. So he tries not to think about it, choosing to think about more important things like the taste of Link’s lips. Rhett pulls him backstage by the lapels of his leather jacket, pressing him against the wall and kissing him breathless.

“Here?” he asks. 

“Here,” Rhett replies. Link doesn’t object. He matches the deepness of the kiss, his tongue meeting Rhett’s, and it isn’t long before they’re rutting together against the wall like lust-drunk teenagers. And there are a million things Rhett could tell him, things like _I have never been this open before_ or _you’re someone I’d like to keep_ , but instead of saying them he tries to make Link hear it with his body. Rhett doesn’t have a way with words, after all, no knack for storytelling like Link has. Rhett kisses him hard and thinks he gets the message. And thirty seconds later Rhett has one hand down his pants and Link’s down his, the two of them panting and whimpering into each other’s mouths. Rhett supposes he should be embarrassed about the noises he’s making and the way Link gets him unraveled. He would be if he didn’t have Link in exactly the same way.

“Let’s take this home,” Link pants, but Rhett’s not ready to let him off the hook yet. He likes him like this, helpless as he ruts in Rhett’s hand, soft groans escaping him. 

“I like it here,” Rhett breathes.

“I hate you,” he replies.

“You do not.” Rhett kisses him, caressing his lips with his tongue, and he whimpers brokenly into Rhett’s mouth. He squeezes Rhett through his underwear and for a moment he wavers, shivering at the touch. But Rhett still has him, he knows he does, and Link’s touch softens as he rises up on his tiptoes and kisses Rhett as deep as he can. 

“You’re too…” Link breathes. 

“Hot?” Rhett guesses.

“Too friggin’ tall,” he laughs, and all right. So maybe Rhett doesn’t have him as captivated as he thought. He can change that. 

“Yeah?” he asks. “Well, you know what they say about tall guys.”

“What’s that?”

“I have no idea.” Link starts to laugh, his stupid high laugh, all heat, and Rhett cuts him off with a kiss to the underside of his jaw. He goes weak at the knees when Rhett kisses him there, his legs going limp, and Rhett sinks to his knees before Link’s buckle. 

“Here?” he asks. 

“Here,” Rhett replies. Link slides a hand into Rhett’s hair and tangles it there, yanking almost to the point of pain. But he doesn’t hurt Rhett, not now, and Rhett sinks his fingers into the meat of Link’s thighs and makes him moan. It’s sinful, the way his hips roll. “That’s right, babe,” Rhett says, staking his claim on him as best he can. Whether he means the name or not, this time Link couldn’t care less. He lets Rhett call him whatever he wants, his back to the wall and his hand in Rhett’s hair. He spends some time backstage, Link all he can see, all he can hear. All he can taste. Rhett can call him whatever the hell he wants back here. He doesn’t belong to the world anymore. He belongs to Rhett. 

 

Later, Link’s glasses fogged up so much he has to take them off and wipe them on his shirt, he draws Rhett to his chest with one arm and grins. 

“I know what you’re doing,” he says. 

“What am I doing?” Rhett asks, Link beaming at him and pressing his nose to Rhett’s. 

“You’re trying to act cool,” he says. “You’re acting all blasé, all tough, calling me _babe_ because you know it gets me worked up. What are you playing, Rhett?” He’s close, one arm slung around Rhett’s waist, and he tries for a moment to feign ignorance. 

“I’m not playing anything,” Rhett says. He can still taste Link on his tongue, his leather belt hanging open in his jeans. Rhett’s not playing anything Link hasn’t played with him, anyway. He relents and tells Link as much. 

“You can stop playing anytime,” Link tells him. “Don’t you think I’ve given enough to you to prove I’m not playing anymore?” 

“You’re a vampire, Link,” Rhett reminds him. “You’re always going to be eons ahead of me. I have to keep my head above water somehow, babe.” Rhett grins down at him and Link surges up on his toes to peck at Rhett’s lips, Link laughing into his mouth. 

“I guess you have a point there,” Link says. Finally, exhausted and ready to curl up on the couch, Rhett agrees to head home. Link throws Rhett over his shoulder and carries him out of the auditorium like he weighs nothing, not setting him down until they get to his car. Rhett has grown fond of the DeLorean, the shiny silver car more fun than he would ever admit. He slides into the car and Link closes the door for him before getting into the driver’s seat, buckling up Rhett’s seatbelt before his. He catches Rhett by surprise, capturing his lips. It’s a nice kiss, quick and chaste and cool, but it leaves him breathless.

He always forgets which one of them has the other.

 

Late at night they sit in front of the TV, Link’s feet propped up in Rhett’s lap. Halloween III is on and Link says he doesn’t like horror movies but he watches it with minimal complaints anyway. As they watch Rhett idly rubs Link’s feet, making him purr like a cat over the noise of the TV. It’s all right with Rhett. He has seen this one before. He talks over it, telling Link how much he loves scary movies, and he laughs. 

“You still like horror movies with a real life movie monster on your couch?” he asks. 

“You’re not as scary as the movies would make me believe,” Rhett replies. 

“Hey! I can be scary!” Link digs his toes into Rhett’s ribs and he squirms away.

“I doubt it,” Rhett tells him. And he accepts the dare in Rhett’s voice, moving so fast he almost misses it. Before he knows it Link’s on top of him, pressing his body to Rhett’s. He takes hold of Rhett’s wrists and slams them to the head of the couch, pinning his hands over his head.

“Scared?” he asks.

“You wish.” 

“Hmm.” Link leans in close and presses his lips to Rhett’s throat, icy and soft. Rhett opens his mouth to tell Link kissing him is probably the least horrifying thing he could do when he feels the press of teeth on his skin. He pauses. He’s never been scared of Link’s mouth like this before. Then again, he hasn’t bitten Rhett since he’s realized the truth, the fact that he could kill Rhett just like this. “Now?” he asks.

Rhett swallows hard. “Nope.”

“Hmm,” he hums again. His body is heavy, Link in no way going easy on Rhett, and he’s not scared. No way. There’s nothing to be afraid of; this is a man who seduced Rhett by dotting his eyes with red glitter, a man who has been broken just as much as Rhett has. Link moves slow and Rhett lets him. He sucks a mark into Rhett’s neck, tongue lapping at his skin as he bruises it. As he moves Rhett rolls his hips up to meet him, the heat of Link’s mouth chilling him. Just when he parts his lips to moan Link releases him. “Scared?” he asks.

“No,” he says again. Link presses his teeth to Rhett’s throat again, sinking them in deep, and God, his teeth are sharp. He’s not going to break the skin, Rhett knows he’s not, but he cries out in pain and Link doesn’t let go. He holds, the pressure on Rhett’s neck making his heart race, and he can feel Link smiling into his skin. He doesn’t want to scare him. There’s no way he really wants to scare him. But his teeth bear down and Rhett feels his brain scatter, surety leaving him.

“Link,” he breathes. He buries his hand in Link’s hair and pulls, Link groaning in response. “Link, hey.” 

“Am I hurting you?” he asks, voice muffled. 

“Yes.”

“Tell me I’m scary. I’m ferocious and evil and you’re scared out of your mind.”

“Yeah, yeah. All of those things. I bless the ground you walk on to keep the evil at bay. Now let me go.” Link laughs, a big belly laugh that shakes the both of them, and he releases his hold on Rhett’s neck and falls on his back off the sofa. “Are you all right?” Rhett asks, Link clutching his stomach with his eyes squeezed shut. When he gets like this it’s impossible to stop him; his laughter is a tidal wave Rhett has to ride out. Tears gather in his eyelashes as Rhett lies on his stomach on the sofa, dangling one hand off the side to run his fingers along Link’s chest. 

“By the way…” he chokes, wiping at his eyes and trying to get control of his laughter. Rhett dances his fingertips down to Link’s hip and waits for him to speak. “The whole…the whole holy water, hallowed ground thing is a myth. I can walk into any damn church I please. I can drink holy water if I want to. I’m a vampire, not a demon. I’m not, you know.” He shrugs on the floor, his wet eyes rolling to meet Rhett’s. “I’m not cursed. I might be a monster but I’m not damned.” 

“You’re not?” Link catches Rhett’s hand on its way down his thigh and brings it to his lips. 

“No,” he says. He examines the back of Rhett’s hand for a moment and presses a gentle row of kisses across his knuckles. It’s not something a one night stand does and Rhett feels maybe he should pull his hand away. But he doesn’t. “I don’t blame you for not knowing the truth,” he says, thoughtful. “I did a lot of research when I was turned and a lot of the information out there is total bullshit. Like the whole garlic thing? What the hell is that? I _love_ garlic! Granted, I don’t eat it much, but it doesn’t mean I can’t! Vampires don’t eat a lot of human food, just because it’s more satisfying to have blood, but people see vampires refusing food and go nuts telling the world it’s because we _can’t_ eat it. Wild.” Link nips playfully at the back of Rhett’s hand and shrugs. “I guess you’ll just have to figure out what’s real or not as we go along.”

“I guess so,” Rhett replies. _As we go along_. The future is nothing he has ever planned for before, not alone and not with anyone else. As far as it matters to him he hardly has a future; day to day works just fine. But Link paints a picture of a future he might want to share with Rhett and who is Rhett to tell him he is no good at futures? He’ll figure that out as they go along. 

Link goes quiet and Rhett watches him play with his fingers, stroking Rhett’s fingertips and his palm. Rhett should ask him what’s wrong but he gets the feeling he’s getting ready to tell him. And when he opens his mouth Rhett makes sure to listen. 

“This time twelve years ago I was walking to the overpass,” Link says. “My mind made up. My heart broken beyond anything I thought possible.” Rhett doesn’t know what to say so he tells Link he is sorry. “It’s okay,” he says. “I just can’t help but think of it every year. It always comes back like it was last week instead of 2004.” He holds Rhett’s hand and gnaws at his lip before taking Rhett’s palm and pressing it over his heart. And he had no idea vampires have beating hearts but Link does, his heart thrumming beneath Rhett’s hand. Another thing Rhett has to learn about him. 

“The vampire who turned me said something that stuck with me, Rhett,” he says. Like he doesn’t really want to tell him but wants it far away from himself. 

“What’s that?” Rhett asks.

“He said…he got real close and he said, ‘You know, every person who dies by their own hand goes straight to hell.’ And I looked at him and I wanted to ask him if that was where I was. But it wasn’t. The way he said it was horrible, Rhett. Like he thought he was damning me to something worse.”

“Was he?”

Link pauses. He flattens his hand on top of Rhett’s, his skin cool, and in the end he shakes his head. “No,” he says. “At first I thought he was. For years I thought he was. But I’ve had some time to think, you see, and I am glad to be alive. Or whatever this is. I could have lived a life without ever knowing you.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m the love of your life,” Rhett scolds. “It’s been weeks since I met you, Link, and you spent a lot of that time hiding away from me.” Link puzzles over the harsh words. 

“You’re right,” he says. “I’m just not used to being close to people. I have to remember how to do it without handing over all of me.”

“Please do,” Rhett tells him, and with his heart hammering under Rhett’s hand it’s a little bit harder to think about all the reasons why he himself has been alone for so long. 

“You are scared of me, then,” he says, stroking at Rhett’s hand with his fingernails. 

“No.”

“Yes. Just not the way you should be.”

“I should be scared of your fangs, right? And your animalistic need for blood?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“But you’re still scared of me.”

“How, Link? Enlighten me.” Rhett doesn’t really want him to; he thinks he knows just what Link is going to say. 

“You’re scared of commitment,” he says. “Of trusting someone. Of trusting me. And I have some bad news for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Your lack of fear regarding my lack of humanity is terribly endearing.” He slips into his old world persona, his stiff way of speaking, and Rhett can’t help but laugh at how phony it sounds now. The kids still eat it up along with all his stories but Rhett knows the real Link now, the one who thinks he knows all there is to know about everything. But Rhett has his story now and Link has nothing of his. Rhett still has time before he asks for it and it sends him running. He’s not the only one with a list of people who have broken pieces off of him. 

“Well, I have some bad news for you, too,” Rhett tells him. He quirks an eyebrow up and asks what it is. “Your desire for a monogamous, committed relationship is the scariest thing about you. And I’m starting to think it might not be too bad.” 

“No?” he asks.

“No.” Link beams and climbs back on top of Rhett on the sofa, Halloween IV now blaring on the TV. “You don’t scare me one bit, Link,” Rhett lies, and it’s a lie he accepts for now. 

“That’s fine, honeybee,” he breathes. “That’s just fine.”

 

Rhett’s play goes on in seven weeks and all they have down is the costumes. He owes Stevie for that one; she gave Rhett the name of the seamstress who had the costumes ready the week after he had his cast. Stevie sits in on rehearsal the whole week after Halloween, delighting in Link’s presence just as much as the kids do. And Rhett doesn’t feel a strange surge of jealousy every time she makes him laugh. That would be possessive, that would mean he wants him all to himself, and if that’s true then Rhett is a lot deeper than he wants to be. Even so he calls Stevie to help with the costume changes every time she makes Link toss his head back in laughter. There’s no reason for it but she still gives Rhett this annoying knowing look every time. 

“What are you singing?” he asks nearly two weeks after Halloween, Stevie helping Amelia tie the back of her dress. Link helps Heather sing scales onstage as they get ready in the back. Heather’s voice rises high above Link’s and they sound sweet together, calm and warm. 

Stevie sings louder to sing over them. “Rhett and Lincoln, sitting in a tree…” she sings, Amelia dissolving into giggles with her, rendering the both of them useless as they try to bite it down. 

“Oh, stop,” Rhett tells her.

“You _love_ him,” Stevie teases. Rhett shivers at the word and she says, “Stop acting like a child, Rhett. There are a lot scarier words out there than _love_.”

“There really aren’t,” he replies.

“You love me,” Stevie says, and Amelia twists around to say, 

“And me!”

“That’s different,” he says. “I love ice cream. I love Christmas. I love a lot of things, you two, but it’s different.” 

“It’s really not…” Amelia mutters, and Rhett uses the only thing he has against her and threatens to recast her. “You wouldn’t,” she taunts, gasping out loud as Stevie ties her dress up tight. Stevie works on the bow in the back, her fingers nimble as she sucks on the end of her blonde braid. Rhett pretends not to be utterly restless, anxious and worried at the turn of this conversation. If he runs away now that would be too suspicious so he tries his best to wait it out. Stevie gets more and more wild as she fluffs out the bottom of Amelia’s yellow dress, raving about how beautiful a wedding she envisions for Rhett, and he is going to pass out. He leans heavy on the wall and closes his eyes, hoping Stevie takes the hint and eases up. She doesn’t. 

“I want to be in the wedding party,” Amelia says as Stevie climbs to her feet from the stage floor. Stevie goes to work on Amelia’s hair and if Rhett didn’t need her so desperately to do hair and makeup he would beg her to leave. 

“How do you want your hair, Amelia?” Stevie asks. “Do you need me to curl it for the big night or do you just want it like this?”

“I haven’t decided,” Amelia says. “But for Mr. McLaughlin’s wedding I want it curled.”

“Oh, _stop_ ,” Rhett tries, but no one listens. No one puts him out of his misery. 

“You do look beautiful in curls,” Stevie says, voice wistful. “What I wouldn’t give for hair like yours.”

“Oh, Ms. Levine, your hair is beautiful just the way it is!” Amelia assures her, and finally their attention leaves Rhett. He takes his chance to dart away and meet Link in the middle of the stage, he and Heather taking deep breaths together. 

“Like this,” he says, using his hand to show her how he lifts his diaphragm to breathe. “It’s easy if you don’t use just your chest.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Heather says. She’s nervous about her song; she has been since day one. But Rhett knows she can do it and she knows it, too. She just needs a little prodding. 

“Why don’t we do a run through?” Rhett asks, and her eyes widen in horror. 

“Mr. M., no! I’m not ready.” 

“She’s ready,” Link replies. 

“No! I sound like a dying cat, or a hyena or something, anything but a person trying to sing!” Her cap bobs in her hair, the teapot top Stevie attached to her head with approximately fifteen million bobby pins. 

“You sound amazing,” Link tells her. 

“I haven’t heard your song yet, Heather,” Stevie says, leading a tottering Amelia to center stage. She hasn’t quite gotten the hang of walking in her massive dress and Rhett has no idea how ready she is for her dance with Robbie. Speaking of which…

“Guys, where the hell is Robbie?” Rhett asks. He looks around the auditorium, Link mirroring him, and when they don’t find him Link looks back to Rhett and shrugs. “Has anyone seen Robbie?”

“No,” Amelia says. “Wait, has he even shown up today?”

“Yeah, he’s in my math class,” Ian says. “Wait, I can’t remember if he was in today…”

“Oh, shit,” Rhett breathes. It’s not like Robbie is the star or anything; it’s not like finding him is life or death. Wait. It is. “Shit, shit.” Stevie reaches for Rhett at the same time as Link does, the both of them aiming to comfort him, but neither of them reaches him before he darts from center stage and hops to the floor. He pulls his phone from his pocket, the numbers of all his cast members in a group labeled ‘BEAUTY AND THE BEAST’, and he calls Robbie. He has to be somewhere, after all, and wherever he is can’t be as important as being here. When he answers Rhett is going to rip him a new one; he _knows_ they’re rehearsing his dance with Amelia today. The phone rings twice, three times, four times…and he doesn’t answer. “Shit!” Rhett cries, and from the stage Amelia calls to him.

“No answer?” she asks. 

“No answer!” Rhett turns back to the stage and throws his hands up in defeat. 

“Huh,” she says. 

“I know,” he agrees. He sinks into a seat in the front row of the audience and tries to come up with a plan, the best course of action. He could cut rehearsal short and send them home and hope Robbie turns up for tomorrow. He could call him until he answers and shout at him until he’s blue in the face. He could recast him right now or he could use Link to teach Amelia her dance… “Shit,” he groans. “Shit.” 

“I hope he’s okay…” Heather says, and she gets shushed immediately by Stevie.

“Stop,” Stevie says. “There’s nothing wrong. Calm down.” 

“What if the killer got him?!” Heather cries anyway, and Rhett looks up just in time to see tears well up in her big eyes. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Stevie says. 

“The killer is nowhere near the city,” Link adds.

“Like you know that!” Heather cries. Amelia, looking pale and shell shocked herself, moves to comfort Heather anyway. Ian in turn wraps an arm around Amelia and for today, at least, this play is done for. 

“Should we try calling his parents?” Stevie asks. She frets beside the kids, her braid between her teeth. Link drops a hand on her shoulder and squeezes, leaning close to tell her he’s sure everything is fine. Rhett doesn’t even have it in him to be jealous; he buries his face in his hands and tries not to wail. Right when he’s about to give in and do it anyway, his phone rings. 

“Is it Robbie?” Amelia asks before he gets the chance to look. Stevie hushes her and Rhett wrestles his phone from his pocket to find Robbie’s name on the screen. He nods, Amelia shrieking for Rhett to put it on speaker. Stevie hushes her again and Rhett rises from his seat to answer. 

“Robbie!” he says. “Where are you?” For a moment all he hears on the other line is the sound of muffled whimpering. “Robbie?”

“Sorry, Mr. M.,” Robbie says. “Ma, I’m trying to talk to Mr. M.” The crying goes quiet for a second and Robbie apologizes. “My mother,” he says. “Listen, I got pulled out of school early. I’m sorry. It’s my brother.” Robbie has an older brother who graduated high school a few years ago who goes to college in the city. Beyond that Rhett knows nothing else and he ignores the rest of his kids as they meet him in the audience and begin to tug at his sleeves for attention. He brushes them all off. 

“What about him, Robbie? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, yeah. My brother is missing. I guess he’s been missing from school for a few days but they only just called the police. My mother is real fucked up and she made me come home. She thinks the killer got him.” Rhett shoots a sharp glance up at Link and the kids follow his gaze, puzzling over what the look means. 

“Okay,” Rhett says. He tries to be tactful, kind, but neither is a strong suit of his. “Do you think the killer’s got him, Robbie?” Amelia gasps out loud and Stevie shouts his name. Okay, so that wasn’t the right thing to say. But Robbie’s already responding, voice low on the other end. 

“I dunno,” he says. “But anyway, my mom doesn’t want me to come to rehearsals anymore. She says it’s not safe out there. Mr. M., I know I don’t act like it but this play means everything to me and there’s no way I want this, but…”

“Don’t say _but_ to me,” Rhett groans. “I won’t do this play without you.”

“Mr. M., what _is_ it?” Heather asks, hanging off Rhett’s arm. He shakes her off.

“What do you want me to do?” Robbie asks. “If I sneak out she’ll probably call the police.”

“Tell her…tell her I will personally drive you home from every rehearsal from now on. Yeah? Give that a try.”

“Okay, Mr. M.,” Robbie says. “I’ll try to talk some sense into her. No promises, though. She already wants to move out of state, she’s so scared. Once she gets going…” His voice drops off and Rhett gets the picture. 

“Do your best, Robbie,” Rhett says. “Yeah? Get back to me as soon as you can.” 

“Will do, Mr. M.” He hangs up and so does Rhett and he has no choice but to face his class and tell them they may have lost their lead.

“Why were you talking about the killer, Mr. McLaughlin?” Amelia asks. 

“Link, do you know something about it?” Heather asks, and Rhett curses himself for looking straight at him. Link puts his hands up and swears ignorance, his eyes boring hotly into Rhett, and he doesn’t look at him now. He looks at Stevie, begging her for help with his eyes. She gets the idea. Skillfully she gathers up the cast, ushering them onstage, and she tells them to please wait right where they are while the adults discuss a little, tiny issue in the audience. 

“Link,” Stevie says, her arms crossed and her hands curled around her elbows. “Have you killed anyone?”

“Well, yes,” he says, and Rhett smacks him on the arm. “But not this time. This isn’t me. Didn’t Rhett tell you I went after the bastards?”

“No!” Stevie shrieks. In turn she hits Rhett. “What happened?!” Link gives her a quick rundown of the time he came to Rhett’s place with a bullet hole, Stevie slapping her hands to her mouth when Link tells her Rhett was more preoccupied with the blood on the carpet than with him. 

“What!” Rhett cries. This isn’t the time for this fight; this isn’t the issue at hand. But Stevie looks at him like he’s injured her and he rolls his eyes, too aware the kids are watching them and waiting for something. “I was mad at him for leaving me! You know how I get! Don’t look at me like that, Stevie, I don’t have time to apologize for years of pent up issues. Yeah?” Stevie nods. “Good. What are we going to do?”

“You two are going to rent a bus if you have to,” Link says, “and don’t take your eyes off the kids until they are locked inside their homes. In the meantime, I have a few cocky bastards to kill.”

“You can’t be serious,” Rhett says, a headache forming between his eyes. “You almost got yourself killed going after them before.”

“I know,” he says. “But what choice do I have? I won’t let them take this town from me, not when it’s the first place I’ve been able to call home since I was born.” Stevie makes a sad sort of choking sound and casts a glance back at the kids. 

“Are we in immediate danger?” Stevie asks. 

“I don’t think so,” Link says. “You will be once they know I’m actively hunting them, though. So once I leave I want you two to stay together if you can.”

“Okay,” Stevie says, and Rhett has no idea how she can keep taking things like this, like this is normal. Like it’s an everyday thing, dealing with the threat of a horde of vampires bearing down on the city. “You can stay at my place, Rhett, no problem.” 

“Do you live in an apartment?” Link asks.

“A house.” Link shakes his head. 

“No go. Stay at Rhett’s. It will be harder to find you and to get to you in an apartment building.”

“Okay,” Stevie immediately agrees. Rhett feels like he might be going mad. She takes every word Link says as gospel, nodding along and going solemn. It took Rhett weeks to get this far, to believe the things coming out of his mouth, but she believes him without the tiniest hint of proof. Rhett doesn’t know whether he admires her or wants to strangle her. In any case Link tells her to go to her place with Rhett and pack a bag before they head to his.

“Do either of you know how to drive a bus?” Link asks. Before Rhett can scoff and tell him no he’s already onto the next thing, his hands in his hair as he thinks. “We should call the _mayor_ and ask for a town wide curfew. I know he won’t take us seriously but the thought will be out there for when they decide they need it. I just hope not too many more people have to be killed for that to happen. Listen, Stevie, I swear to God. If anything happens to Rhett…not that I want anything to happen to you…but if _anything_ happens to Rhett I’ll…”

“I get the idea,” Stevie gulps. 

“What are you going to do to her?” Rhett asks, and Link rolls his eyes. It’s not like he’s going to hurt her or anything so his stupid vague threats mean nothing. 

“Be quiet, Rhett,” he scolds. “I’m trying to think. What was I saying?”

“We should get a bus,” Stevie reminds him, and Link throws his hands up.

“Yes, we should get a bus! And I don’t care who drives it but I want you to watch these kids go into their houses even if it takes all night. Okay? I’m going after them. Rhett, give me your phone.” Rhett passes it over as Stevie swats him on the arm and says she can’t believe he doesn’t have his boyfriend’s goddamn number in his goddamn phone. Link programs it in and then holds his hand out for Stevie’s phone. She drops the phone, wrapped in a plastic case she painted like Starry Night, into Link’s hand and swats at Rhett again when he complains about her swatting him.

“You have no idea how to be a human, Rhett,” she mutters, and he tells her it’s not like she does, either. It’s not like Link does, or any of the kids waiting with wide eyes for Rhett to tell them something. They’re all winging it, every person in this room, and Link passes Stevie her phone back and tells her to call with the slightest worry. 

“If you see a shadow, call me,” he says. “If you get a bad feeling, call me. I’m not going out after these guys to come back and find you two couldn’t take care of one another. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Mom,” Rhett gripes, and his complaining earns nothing but a sharp glare from Link and another slap from Stevie. “Christ, will you guys stop ganging up on me?” Rhett whines. He rubs the sore spot Stevie left on his arm and tries to get some sympathy from either one of them. They’re too busy staring at each other in disdain of him to notice. Typical. 

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” Stevie says. “I’m going to start the phone tree for emergencies. All I have to do is call the first of these kid’s parents and they all call each other. I’ll tell them the situation- oh stop, Link, not that there are vampires involved.” She rolls her big eyes at Link opening his mouth to protest and in shock he keeps it hanging open. Stevie usually leaves Rhett much the same. “I’m going to tell them there might be another victim and three strikes is enough for me. They’re to come and collect their kids and from now on no one leaves here alone. We’ll have them drive in pairs and threes and fours, whatever, and the ones who walk, we will drive. And me and Rhett will drive the whole town if we have to and make sure they all made it home all right. Is that good?”

“I think you really ought to shell out the money for an RV and drive them back and forth everywhere they go,” Link says. He casts a glance at the kids and Rhett doesn’t know when it happened to him, the same thing that happened to Rhett and Stevie years ago. He’s fallen in love with them. And worry is not a good look on him, his face pale and his lips pursed. 

“Their parents will keep them safe, Link,” Stevie says. She squeezes his arm and Rhett asks what he has to do to get a comforting squeeze now and again instead of a smack. In reply Stevie leaves slapping behind and punches him, aiming a half-hearted hit to his arm. 

“All right, all right!” Rhett cries. “Christ. Okay, so call the parents, Stevie. Figure out who we have to drive and who already has their cars here. Make sure no one leaves until we know they aren’t leaving alone.” Stevie nods and just like that she dashes back to the kids, ignoring a dozen voices at once to open up her phone and start scrolling through her phone tree. Rhett watches her for a beat, watching her stick a finger up in the air to tell the kids to wait calmly for once. And as she begins to speak into the phone Rhett tears his eyes from her and back to Link. 

“You’re really going after them, then?” Rhett asks. “Alone?”

“What choice do I have? I don’t have anyone else to fight with me.”

“I would,” Rhett says. “If you asked me.”

“I’m not asking you.”

“I know that.” Link looks hard at him and Rhett wants to beg him not to go. What if he doesn’t come back? What if they rip his head off and leave it on a stick in front of their castle as a warning? Is that something vampires do? Do they even live in castles anymore? Rhett shakes his head because what the hell does it matter, anyway? Link is leaving him again and this time he has a warning, this time Rhett knows where he’s off to, and this time it doesn’t feel any better. This time Rhett might not get him back. And he hasn’t been faced with this in a long time, staring a goodbye in the face, and Link’s eyes are wide enough to swallow Rhett whole and he doesn’t say a thing. 

“I’ll be fine,” Link says, like he knows. 

“Will you?”

“I will.”

“I want to come with you.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?” At Rhett’s back he can hear Stevie talking to Amelia’s mother, talking softly like the kids can’t hear her, and she feels very far away. 

“You’re fragile,” Link says. “You’re tiny and breakable and you’re mine. I won’t let them break something beautiful of mine. Not while I’m alive.” 

“You’re not alive. Not really.” Ruining would-be-intimate moments is Rhett’s specialty and Link’s had enough, spinning on his heels and throwing up his hands. Rhett doesn’t blame him. 

“You are the most irritating person I have ever met,” Link says. “You’re rude and self-absorbed and self-depreciating to the point of insanity.”

“And?” Rhett asks his back.

“And I’m going to waste away pining for you every moment I’m gone.” Link turns back to face Rhett and before he has time to breathe Link’s got Rhett crushed to his chest, his hands on Rhett’s face.

“Are you?” Rhett asks.

“Yes.” He kisses Rhett, soft and careful and then not at all. Rhett’s grateful the kids are preoccupied with Stevie, their backs to him and Link. 

“Come back to me,” Rhett tells him. 

“I’ll do my best.”

“Link!” Rhett shoves him back and he stumbles, his somber expression blooming into the smile Rhett is going to miss more than he thinks he’d miss a limb. 

“I’ll come back to you,” he promises. “With the heads of anyone who could ever possibly hurt you on a stick.” So maybe it _is_ something vampires do. “While I’m at it, do you have any ex-boyfriends you need me to stake?”

“Fuck off, Link.”

“If I die I’ll be sure to remember those words with my last breath.”

“You’re the worst.” Link tosses his head back to laugh and then he’s on Rhett again, pressing frantic kisses all over his face. 

“If I’m the worst,” he asks, his lips at Rhett’s temple, “then…” Another kiss, this one just under his eye. “What…does that…make you?” He kisses the tip of Rhett’s nose and Rhett takes it back.

“You’re not the worst.” He cuts himself off before he can gag on _you might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me_ but he thinks Link gets the picture. 

“I’ll cherish the sentiment forever,” he says, and again he turns from Rhett. And this time he vanishes. Stevie’s voice floods back to Rhett the moment Link is out of sight, the fear in the room rushing back all at once. And Rhett has too much to do to chase after Link and give him the sort of kiss that would leave him weak at the knees. When he comes back to Rhett he will. He turns to help Stevie quell the chaos and tries not to think too hard about the likelihood of Link returning. He’ll come back. Rhett doesn’t know how he knows but he does; Link would move the stars for him. Ordinarily he would be terrified of the idea. Now? He’s not so sure. 

 

Stevie and Rhett spend the next two hours getting the kids home, waiting with bated breath at the school for the ones who drove themselves. When they get the last text from Ian and Amelia they head to Stevie’s house and she keeps her lips pursed tight as she packs a bag.

“I don’t have much room for you,” Rhett tells her, apologetic, and she nods.

“It’s okay. I’ll sleep on the couch. I just don’t want to be alone.” Link has her scared out of her mind and if Rhett didn’t feel the same he would tell her to stop fretting. She looks ill, shaky and pale, and Rhett wants to comfort her. He just doesn’t know how. 

“I love you, Stevie,” he tries, and she raises her eyebrows at him. “Sorry. I just don’t know what else to say.”

“Well, I love you, too. You should have said it to Link.”

“I don’t love him.”

“All right. Fine.” Any other day she would fight but she’s trying to cram dress shirts into her pink plastic suitcase and it’s not going well. Rhett helps her shove clothes into the bag and she thanks him, giving her head a little shake he can’t decipher. “If he doesn’t come back he’s going to die wondering what wrong he did by you.”

“Fuck off, Stevie.”

“Why are you like this? Why are you so insistent on being miserable? He worships the ground you walk on and you won’t even look him in the eye half the time. He looks at you like you’re the sun, like you’re the world. And you can’t even admit that maybe, just this once, you might love somebody.”

“Stevie, you are aware I’ve known him a month. You can’t love someone in a month. Please, for the love of God, stop being crazy.” Rhett pushes her hands away as she struggles with the zipper of her case and she growls, shoving back to do it herself. She’s a sight when she’s upset, when she’s scared, and Rhett has never seen her quite like this. 

“Regardless of what you think, he loves you. You’re an idiot if you don’t see that. I don’t care how long you’ve known him. Maybe he’s wired differently. He’s a vampire, for crying out loud, and maybe when he knows he _knows_.” 

“Stevie, shut up.” She throws her bag to the floor and yanks up the handle, smacking into Rhett’s ankle with the wheels and rolling out to the front door. Limping in pain, Rhett follows.

“You drive me crazy. Crazy! I hope you have a drink for me at your place.”

“I’ll need one too if you’re staying with me.” He doesn’t mean to say it but when it comes out Stevie rolls her eyes, more angry than hurt, and Rhett is glad. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He just wants her to stop being wild, raving about love when she knows nothing about it. The two of them ride to Rhett’s apartment in silence, Stevie’s arms crossed over her chest. When they get up to his living room he drags out the sofa bed alone. Stevie sulks in his bedroom while she waits for him and doesn’t say a word until he tries to go to bed. 

“Rhett,” she says, quiet. “Please sit and watch TV with me.” He hovers by the kitchen and she groans at his hesitation. “Are you going to be mad at me forever? We can watch Food Network. Come on.” Stevie pats the sofa bed and he relents, crawling into bed beside her as she turns on the TV. “To be honest,” she says after a few quiet minutes of watching some baking show, “I’m scared to go to sleep. What if something gets us while I’m sleeping? What if something happens to Link while he’s gone? Where did he even go, Rhett? Why aren’t you worried sick?” The quiet was nice while it lasted. Stevie drops her head to Rhett’s shoulder and he tries to answer all her questions in the right order.

“Nothing will get us,” he tells her. “Nothing will happen to Link. He’s going to make sure we’re safe and then he’s going to come back. I have no idea where he went but you can’t tell me I’m not worried sick.”

“You are, then?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. So quit thinking I’m so fuckin’ cold, will you? I’m not this big and terrible man eater, Stevie. Christ, when did you start to think that of me?”

“When you met someone who gave you his heart and I watched you realize you don’t know what to do with it.” It’s a stupidly profound answer, one that makes Rhett want to roll his eyes and say something equally stupid in return. But he doesn’t. 

“You’re crazy, Stevie,” he tells her instead. 

“Don’t I know it,” she says. She cuddles closer to Rhett on the sofa bed and he wraps one arm around her, the two of them falling into uneasy silence. It doesn’t take her long to fall asleep and Rhett eases away, letting her down onto the bed and hopping off. For a minute he watches her and makes sure she stays asleep, looking peaceful and especially small. When she doesn’t move Rhett pads to his bedroom and makes sure three times all the windows are locked. He casts a glance outside, half expecting to see a killer vampire waiting under a streetlight, but nothing is there. 

He is fine. Stevie is fine and Link is fine and all the kids are fine, fine, fine. Rhett can sleep and everything will still be fine in the morning. He gets angry at himself for how hard it is to fall asleep; he tells himself it’s not because he misses sleeping beside Link but because of the circumstances. It’s the killer on the loose fraying his nerves and not the temporary loss of Link. Rhett doesn’t miss him.

Not yet.

 

Rhett wakes up to a strange tapping at his bedroom window. _You’re on the tenth floor_ , he tells his heart as it begins to beat in double time. But the tapping gets louder and as much as he wants to ignore it he’s not the main character in a horror movie and he doesn’t have a death wish. It sounds like stones, like someone tossing pebbles at the window, and it can’t be Link. He would be at the front door; he would have called. The only person it can be is a person Rhett doesn’t want to see. The scattering sound of stones on the window gets more persistent as Rhett wills himself to rise and check it out. He doesn’t have any weapons, none that could kill a vampire, anyway. What can kill them? He tries to remember what Link told him and as a particularly big rock smacks into his window he curses himself for never listening to him. 

“Go away,” Rhett mutters, like a psychopathic serial killer would obey such commands. The tapping of stones stops for a beat only to be replaced with the sound of bigger rocks being tossed into the window. It’s going to break if Rhett doesn’t stop the person soon. He has to get up. He has to make a choice. There’s a knife in the kitchen, a massive chef’s knife, but regular knives do nothing to vampires, do they? He rolls out of bed and prays Stevie sleeps through this, whatever this is. What the hell is it that can injure a vampire? Steel? Bronze? Iron? Rhett can’t remember. 

The next rock that hits Rhett’s window cracks it and that’s it. He has to make a move. He grabs for his phone and scrolls through his contacts for Link’s number. It’s not under L and Rhett curses him under his breath, tiptoeing to the window and trying to stay out of sight of whatever lurks outside. He presses his back to the wall beside the broken window as another rock hits it and finally Rhett finds a new contact. Link put his number in as _Darling Dear_ and Rhett hates him. He really does. He presses the phone to his ear as it rings, moving slow, and he peeks outside just as a rock hits the window and shatters it. He cries out, dropping to the floor, and Stevie shrieks from the living room. Shit. Shit, _shit_. The phone rings four times and goes to voicemail and of course he didn’t even bother to record a message so Rhett could hear his stupid voice on the other line. He waits for the beep and speaks as quietly as he can, hushing Stevie as she appears bleary eyed in the doorway. 

“Get down,” he mouths to her. And then into the phone, “Link. Someone just smashed my window. It’s the middle of the fucking night. Call me back, asshole.” He hangs up and Stevie drops to the floor, crawling carefully over broken glass to curl up at Rhett’s side.

“Who is it?” she mouths. 

“Dunno,” he replies. A brick sails through the window and smashes with a burst of red dust against the back wall of Rhett’s room. He’s going to have hell to pay for the window as it is; the landlord is going to go ballistic. This has to end before Rhett ends up owing hundreds of dollars in repairs, never mind for something caused by a killer vampire and not by him. “What is it that kills vampires, Stevie?” he asks her.

“Uh,” she replies.

“Yeah, I can’t remember either.”

“Silver,” she says. “It’s silver.”

“Got any?” Rhett asks. Frightened and wide eyed she shakes her head. “Great.” Another brick slams red into the wall and that’s it. If Link isn’t going to help, Rhett’s going to have to figure something out for himself. Stevie whimpers when he crawls away, fast over the broken glass of the window, and he slices up his palm and figures it’s just as well. Maybe the crazy bastard will smell the blood and come after him. It would only make it easier for Rhett to kill them. Fake it ‘til you make it, the greats always say, and hell if Rhett’s not one of the greats. He pretends to be brave and fearless as he races to the kitchen and heaves his chef’s knife from its holder on the counter. It might slow the guy down if nothing else and for now it’s all Rhett has. Stevie meets him in the kitchen, white faced and trembling, and she tells him a cinderblock just smashed a hole in his bedroom wall.

“Son of a bitch!” he barks.

“I know,” she replies. “What are we going to do?”

“You’re going to call Link over and over until he answers,” he tells her. “And I’m going to try and scare this idiot off.”

“You will not!” she cries. 

“What else can I do, Stevie? Do you want him to smash my place to dust and come up here and skin us alive?” Stevie’s eyes go wide in horror.

“Do they _do_ that?” she asks. 

“Jesus Christ, like I know! It was just to scare you! Now please, call Link!” Stevie nods and dashes to the sofa bed, digging through the sheets for her phone. As she scrambles for it Rhett moves back to his room, stepping over broken glass to the window. Outside the window the world has gone silent. He doesn’t hear cars and he doesn’t hear movement; he doesn’t hear glass breaking or rocks hitting the building. All he hears is his heart as he peeks through the window; it beats triple speed as he scans the dark street for a sign of life. And there it is. Under a streetlight stands a man, a tall man obscured by the night, and Rhett freezes. He can’t see his face but he can see the tilt of his jaw. He looks right at Rhett.

“He’s not answering!” Stevie calls. “Rhett, what if he…?”

“Shut up, Stevie!” he hisses. She growls in reply from the other room and tries to call Link again. Rhett watches the motionless figure outside on the street and waits for him to do something, anything at all. He makes sure he sees the knife in his hand as Stevie wails from the living room. 

“Rhett, what if he…?!”

“Stevie! Cut it out, yeah?” he barks. She goes quiet. The man in the street looks up at Rhett and doesn’t do a thing. He should throw something down at him. He should scream. He should call the police, right? Maybe they have silver bullets made for this kind of shit; there has to be a policeman in this city who knows vampires exist. Before Rhett can do anything the man downstairs makes a move. He waves. He wiggles his fingers, his hands clad in black gloves, and then he makes a motion with one hand. A motion that says _up_. And Rhett’s heart doesn’t stop or anything; he’s far too brave for that. But the man crosses the street in four long strides and ready or not he’s coming up now. 

“Stevie!” Rhett cries. “Stevie, make sure the front door is locked!” Stevie swears and curses Link as Rhett races to the front door, meeting Stevie and checking the lock with her. 

“What’s going on?” she asks. 

“Vampire. Coming upstairs. Now.”

“Oh.” Stevie’s braid is disheveled, her eyes wide and fearful, and Rhett can’t believe he got her into this. He had to get involved with a vampire. He had to keep holding onto him once he found out the truth about what he was. And he just had to allow her to stay with him, stay where she isn’t safe, and if anything happens to her…

He doesn’t want to think about it. Vampires are damn fast and they don’t have a lot of time. He passes his knife into Stevie’s hands and he hurries through the kitchen drawers, looking for anything he could use to slow the bastard down. Stevie’s chest heaves as she leans against the front door, short little gasps spilling from her lips. Rhett is sorry she’s scared, he’s so, so sorry, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. He has to move and he has to move now. He shoves aside forks and spoons and candles, throwing things to the kitchen floor as he goes. There’s no time, there’s nothing he can do, and Stevie is going to get hurt and it’s going to be all Rhett’s fault.

“A flashlight, Rhett!” Stevie cries. “Get a flashlight!”

“A flashlight?!” 

“Yes! Ever heard of one?!” So she’s in there somewhere, Rhett’s good old Stevie, and Rhett climbs up on the kitchen counter to fish a flashlight off the top of the fridge. He tosses aside a broken one and one with no batteries, the third one he grabs one that lights up with a crank. Stevie catches it with both hands when he throws it down to her and just when she fumbles and nearly drops it her phone begins to ring. “Link!” she cries. “Oh, shit!” The flashlight clatters to the ground, Stevie sticking her hands in the pocket of her pajama bottoms to look for her phone. They don’t have time for this and Rhett is going to _kill_ Link for leaving them high and dry like this. Rhett hits the floor on his knees and scoops up the flashlight as Stevie shouts Link’s name into the phone. 

“Why didn’t you answer?” Stevie shrieks. “We thought you _died_!” She listens, eyes wide, and she pulls the phone from her ear and puts it on speaker. 

“Rhett,” Link says, and the relief he feels at the sound of his voice makes him weak.

“Link,” he replies.

“What’s going on? Are you two all right?”

“We’re fine,” Rhett says, “except for the vampire heading up to my apartment right now.” The moment it slips from his lips the front door jolts, Stevie leaping away from it and cowering at Rhett’s side. “Shit!” 

“What?” Link asks. 

“Link, what do we do? He’s at the door, you son of a bitch, and you left us here!”

“He’s at the door?” Link curses and Rhett can imagine the way he paces, hand in his hair, tongue between his teeth. The vampire slams into the door again and there’s no time, no time at all. 

“You could have told us you were leaving us for dead, you piece of shit!” Rhett cries into the phone.

“Oh, fuck off!” Link replies.

“We don’t have time for a lover’s spat, you idiots, can we please get a move on?” Stevie asks. She’s got both hands wrapped around Rhett’s forearm, her fingernails digging in deep, and the door rattles again and she screams.

“I should have known they would send someone to watch you in my absence,” Link says. “I’m sorry.”

“An apology is all well and good but can we get some advice here?” The knife Rhett gave Stevie lies on the floor and all Rhett has is a flashlight and his best friend using him as a human shield. They’re doomed. They are so, so doomed. 

“Kill them,” Link says. “Don’t hesitate. Just kill them.”

“Link, I’m going to kill _you_ if you don’t tell us _how_!” Rhett growls. The door rattles and creaks and if it breaks the vampire will be second in line to kill Rhett after his goddamn landlord. 

“I’ve told you! Rhett, you moron, do you ever listen to me or does it go in one ear and out the other? Do you have a flamethrower on you?”

“A flame…Link, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

“You’re right, that’s stupid.” At least he’s willing to admit it. “How about a stake? Do you have one of those?”

“Link, I swear to God, if this guy kills me I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your long, miserable life.” Link goes quiet. 

“Link,” Stevie whimpers, and Link heaves a sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I can’t think straight. I can’t believe I fell for this. I should have known they wouldn’t have left such an easy trail if they didn’t want me to find them. I’m so close to them, Rhett. I should have known it wouldn’t be this easy.”

“Looks like you have a lot to learn about your own kind, Link.”

“I guess you’re right.” He pauses on the other line, Rhett breathless as he waits, and then comes the unmistakable sound of Link smacking his forehead. “God, Rhett! Listen, he has to be invited in! Don’t invite him, Rhett, yeah? Simple. I’m going to come right back to you. And I’m never, ever leaving you out of my sight again. I’ll be there for you in a few hours. Before dawn. Rhett, if anything at all happens to you, just know…”

“Don’t even think about it,” Rhett says, and he hangs up. He doesn’t want to hear it. Stevie squawks, indignant, and Rhett leaves her phone on the counter behind them.

“He was just about to confess his undying, immortal love for you,” she says. “And you hung up on him.”

“We have a few more things to worry about than my love life, Stevie,” Rhett reminds her. The both of them look towards the front door in tandem and together they realize the pounding has stopped. Rhett waits, frozen, and Stevie pauses at his side. She’s breathing hard and shaking, her sweaty forehead resting on Rhett’s shoulder. They wait. 

“Hello?” Rhett calls, expecting nothing. Stevie screams when the man at the door replies.

“Hi,” he says, voice dark and heavy. “I can’t actually come in, you know. I was just sent here to scare you. It’s a bloody miracle I was allowed in the building at all; I got lucky with an unsuspecting janitor who let me in. Anyway, why don’t you open the door? I really can’t come in unless you invite me. Promise.”

“I know the rules,” Rhett replies. He glances at Stevie and she gives her head a tiny shake. 

“No,” she breathes. 

“Yeah?” he breathes in reply. Again she shakes her head. To the door Rhett asks, “Who are you? Who sent you? Why do you have to scare us?”

“An order,” the man says. “I’m Henry. I was sent by the head of my clan. And I have to scare you to teach that godawful excuse for a vampire of yours that he can’t go after whoever he wants without consequences.”

“Yeah?” Rhett asks. “And what are the consequences, exactly? If you can’t get in here then what are you going to be able to do to him?”

“Nothing,” he says, voice heavy as a velvet curtain. “For now. But we only need to send a message once, we hope, before he understands. He killed someone very close to me, in case you weren’t aware.”

“I was aware, yes,” Rhett says. “He only killed one of you after you killed people in his city.”

“His city!” the vampire, Henry, scoffs, voice muffled by the door Rhett is _definitely_ keeping between them. “The city he thinks he owns, you mean. It was ours first; it belongs to our clan. We’ve left the area alone for long enough and we want it back. Either he has to live with it or he has to be silenced. That’s the message. Don’t forget to give it to him.”

“Don’t forget to suck my fucking dick,” Rhett replies, and Stevie gives him a look of such horror in any other situation it would be comical. 

“You have such a terrible attitude, Rhett McLaughlin,” Henry says, and Rhett hates the way he says his name. Like it’s part of a long list of people he intends to erase. “I hope it doesn’t get you into any trouble. Are you sure you don’t want to open this door and see what you’re up against?”

“No, thank you!” Stevie squeaks, and the man chuckles. His laugh is nothing like Link’s. It’s heavy. Chilly. 

“Stevie Levine,” Henry says, and Stevie’s hands tighten on Rhett’s arm. He can’t feel anything below her death grip but for the moment he doesn’t ask her to let go.

“So you know our names,” Rhett says. “I’m so scared. Now can you do me a favor and go away? I’m tired and I have work in the morning. I would hate to oversleep.”

“Ah,” Henry says, and he says the first thing that makes Rhett’s blood run cold. “You do love those children, don’t you? I saw you lovingly cart them home one by one. It was sweet of you to make sure they got home safely. It will be sweet for me to rip their heads off if you or your moronic, conceited boyfriend show your faces within a hundred miles of our clan again. Are we clear?”

Stevie is the first to unstick her throat and reply. “We’re clear.”

“Great,” Henry says. “If you’re sure you don’t want to let me in and give Charles Neal the shock of his pitifully short life…” 

“I’m sure.” 

“All right, then. I hope you have a good night, Rhett McLaughlin. We will be keeping an eye on you should anything happen to another of our clan.”

“Great,” Rhett says. 

“Great,” the vampire echoes. “I’m sure I will be seeing you again. Goodnight.” Rhett listens to the vampire stomp away down the hall, all theatrics and heavy footsteps, and only when he hears the elevator doors ping and close does Stevie sag in relief at Rhett’s side. 

“Are you all right?” Rhett asks her. When she tears her hands from his arm there are gouge marks in his skin from her nails. Sheepish, she nods. 

“Fine. You?”

“Never better.” He drops his flashlight to the kitchen counter and asks her, “Really? A flashlight?” Stevie throws up her hands. 

“Forgive me, Rhett!” she cries. “I thought worst case scenario we could shine it in his eyes to stun him! Don’t act like I’m stupid for thinking of it!” She’s shaky and scared and she sinks to the kitchen floor, clutching onto her biceps with tight hands, hugging herself. 

“I’m going to murder Link,” Rhett says, and she nods.

“Go ahead.” The threat of pressing danger gone for the moment, Rhett wills his heart to stop racing as he sits down beside Stevie on the cold floor. 

“Stevie, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” she says, curt. Curt is bad. Curt means she’s angry. But he deserves it. He put her in danger and he deserves the cold shoulder she gives him until she begins to nod off. Rhett lets her fall asleep curled into his chest on the tile floor of the kitchen, his arm wrapped around her, but it takes him a long time to fall asleep himself. He keeps having a pressing thought, a thought that’s useless but won’t stop, and it’s the last thing he thinks before he falls asleep on the floor. 

_I can’t believe this is my life._


	6. VI

The alarm clock in Rhett’s bedroom wakes Stevie and him up in the kitchen, Rhett’s back aching and Stevie whining as she drags herself from sleep. Before Rhett can make himself get up and turn the alarm off somebody knocks at the front door. Stevie’s reaction is instantaneous; she wakes up fast and drags the flashlight off the counter and into her hands. 

“What now?” Rhett asks the door. But the voice on the other side is the only voice he wants to hear. 

“Honeybee!” Link cries through the door. “Honey, hey, let me in.” Rhett is at the door before he even notices he’s moving and in the next moment he’s in Link’s arms. He lifts Link off his feet, spinning with him in the doorway, and when Rhett sets him down Link clings to his neck. And he laughs, burying his nose in the crook of Rhett’s neck, holding him tight enough to hurt. Rhett missed him madly, terribly, every goddamn minute, and he almost breaks. He almost tells him. But Stevie clears her throat and Link loosens his grip on Rhett just a bit. He loses his nerve as Link eases away and it’s just as well. If only he could stop shaking he would be the picture of composure. 

“I can’t even tell you how glad I am to see you, Rhett,” Link says. And he’s not too stubborn to tell him, 

“Same here.” He beams, his smile bright against the fresh purple circles under his eyes. Before Stevie can protest he’s got Rhett back in his arms, his lips on Rhett’s cheek. She groans and turns on the flashlight in her hands. Link snarls and pulls away from Rhett, his hands over his eyes, and Rhett shouts at Stevie for being an insensitive butthead. 

“You’re the butthead!” she cries. “We have more important things to worry about besides your emotional handicaps or newfound lack thereof!” 

“That’s rich, coming from the girl who in the midst of the battle for our lives last night couldn’t stop griping about my love life!” 

“All right, cut it out.” Link covers his eyes with one hand, his lips turned down in a grimace. “I’m fine. But Stevie, next time you’re thinking about doing that? Don’t.” He lowers his arm and the flashlight clatters to the ground, Stevie dashing to Link’s side.

“Oh, Link, I’m sorry!” she cries, and Rhett would be thrilled to get half the sympathy from her he gets. Link’s eyes are narrow behind his glasses, the whites bright red, and his pupils are almost too small to see. Tears streak down his cheeks from the light and Stevie fusses over him like he’s an infant, cooing and everything. “I didn’t know it would hurt you!” she says. “I’m sorry, are you sure you’re all right?”

“Fine,” Link insists. He opens his eyes wide and then slams them shut again like someone coming from a darkroom out into sunlight. “Shit, that sucked. Just smack me or something next time you need my attention. It hurts less.” Stevie laughs; she always gets the giggles when she’s nervous and Rhett has never seen her so damn nervous before. Link laughs with her and wipes at the tears on his face with the back of one slender hand. But he grows somber quickly, remembering why he raced back here in the first place, and he follows Rhett to his bedroom to inspect the damage left by Henry. 

“Shit,” he says, kicking broken glass out of his way.

“I know,” Rhett says. Link keeps his head down, shuffling his pointed boots on the carpet, and when he looks back up at Rhett anguish twists his mouth down. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. Stevie follows them into the bedroom, arms crossed, and he tells her he’s sorry for her, too. “I didn’t know. I know now. And it was pointless, leaving you. I didn’t even make it to their hideout. I’ll have to figure something out. I can’t just back off, not now that I know for sure they’ll be tailing you two.”

“Tell him what he said, Rhett,” Stevie says, eyes wide. And he’s exhausted, running on almost no sleep at all, and he can’t think. Link looks at him and Stevie urges Rhett to tell him. 

“What did he say, Stevie? I’m too tired to even remember my own name.” He slumps onto his bed and buries his head in both hands, Link’s shoes crunching on glass. Stevie speaks up and with a pang Rhett remembers. 

“He said if you go after them again he’s going to kill our kids,” Stevie says. “All of them.” Rhett hears Link slap his hands over his mouth and Stevie says, “I know.” 

“I won’t let that happen,” Link says. “Never, not in a million years. Don’t even…don’t even worry about it.”

“What are you going to do?” Stevie asks. 

“I don’t know,” Link says, and Rhett raises his head to see him pacing with the knuckles of one hand in his mouth. “Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.”

“How many of them are there?” Stevie asks. How she comes up with such a sensible question is beyond Rhett; his brain feels an awful lot like pudding. 

“A lot,” Link replies. “I don’t know. A dozen, maybe? Clans don’t tend to get larger than that. Vampires don’t enjoy the company of others.” 

“How did you even manage to kill one if there are so many?”

“I caught him alone. It was easy. It’s just, now they know I’m after them, that won’t work anymore. And I can’t leave you two alone, obviously, and…”

“But he couldn’t even touch us,” Stevie says. “He couldn’t get in. So what’s the problem?”

“All it takes is a slip of the tongue, Stevie, and the landlord grants him access to the entire building instead of just the lobby. Okay? I’m not leaving you alone.”

“What if you arm us?” 

“I’m not leaving you,” he says again. Stevie growls, tossing her hands up in the air, and she rakes her hands through her fraying braid and sighs. 

“Then what do you suggest?” she asks. 

“Maybe I should just let them have the city,” Link says. “I knew it was stupid to get comfortable in one place. They don’t really kill that often and I guess as long as they know to leave you two alone…” 

“No,” Rhett says. “No, if you can get rid of them I would much appreciate it.” The thought of sharing a city with bloodthirsty hunters of the night is too much to bear. Rhett looks away from Link’s piercing eyes and down at his feet. 

“If they stay away from the people I love, who am I to scare them off?” Link asks. At the word love Stevie panics, elbowing Link sharply in the ribs and shaking her head. But the damage is done. Rhett panics next, flying to his feet, and Link stands dazed trying to decipher what he’s done. 

“You mean the kids, right?” Stevie asks Link, her hand on his arm. “You love the kids?”

“Yes, I…” Link says, befuddled, and Rhett watches his face change as it clicks. “Oh. You thought I meant you? That’s awfully conceited of you, Rhett.” He offers Rhett a half-hearted smile and says, “No. I meant the kids. And Stevie. I hope you don’t mind, Stevie, but I have grown pretty fond of you.” She covers for Rhett and he tries to shake the limpness from his bones.

“Yeah, it’s all right,” she says. “You’re not so bad yourself.” When Link looks away from her to glance at Rhett she flips Rhett off, anger flashing across her face. He deserves it. Link stands between them, shoulders hunched, and he looks at Rhett with such hurt in his face it starts to hurt Rhett’s heart. 

“I’m going to go,” Link says. “I can’t just stand here. I’ll see you at rehearsal.” He pushes by Rhett out of his room and Stevie stares at him, shocked, for a moment before ordering Rhett to go after him.

“You go after him,” Rhett replies. If he’s not going to protect them like he said he wants to then why the hell should Rhett chase after him? Why is he the one expected to pine for Link and pull him back and tell him he needs him?

“If you don’t go after him I will, and I’m going to tell him you’re deeply in love and want to elope immediately to Cancun.” Stevie is the best friend Rhett has ever had but on the other hand, at the moment he might not mind so much if she were vampire food. 

“You’re the worst,” Rhett tells her, and just as the front door to his place opens Rhett calls Link back. “Link!” he calls. “Darling! Angel! Get your sweet ass back here right now, please!” Stevie glares and Rhett sticks his tongue out at her as Link closes the front door and lopes back to Rhett’s room. When he appears in the doorway he looks nothing less than shocked.

“What did you call me?”

“Forget about it. Listen, please don’t leave us high and dry here. We’d rather not get eaten by vampires today. Or any day. Tell us what the plan is, yeah?” Link looks hard at Rhett for a moment but in the end he softens. 

“I’m going to think of something,” he says. “In the meantime, I still want you two to make sure all the kids get home safe. I’m going to try to get a curfew instated and other than that we are going to act normal as possible. Because they’re watching you now. Anything strange and they’ll assume we’re up to something. And they’ll come after us.”

“So we pretend nothing is wrong while they keep killing people?” Rhett asks. 

“Unless you want to be next we don’t have a choice.”

“No, thank you.” 

“That’s what I thought.” Link rubs at his temples with both hands, closing his eyes and letting his broad shoulders sag. “This is a lot more than I’ve had to deal with in a long time. I need a friggin’ drink. I’ll be at rehearsal, okay? Promise. But until then I’m going to drown my sorrows in Bloody Mary’s down at Chimera and try to pretend none of this is real.” This time when he goes to leave he pecks Rhett on the cheek, miles from the embrace he buried him in when he first arrived, and Rhett did it to him. He wants to apologize, he really does, but the moment Link’s lips leave Rhett’s face he’s gone. Stevie waits a whole three seconds before chastising him and if he didn’t want her to be safe so badly he would tell her she’s the worst best friend in the world and she should leave. Instead of saying that Rhett asks her,

“Stevie, why do you hate me?” The answer he gets is the one he expected.

“Why do you hate yourself?” she asks. And she’s got him there. A horde of vampires on his ass and all he can think about is the scathing look Link gave him as he left. At this point he thinks the world would have to be ending for him to think about anything other than himself. Hell, he doesn’t know if even that would do it. Instead of dwelling on the same old shit he’s been dealing with his entire life he shakes his head and heads for his pantry for Lucky Charms. Come hell or vampires, no amount of heartache or nerves could stop him from getting his stupid children’s cereal. He pours a bowl for Stevie and she wants it, he knows she does, but she’s angry with him and pretends not to for so long the milk in her bowl goes rainbow and then gray. 

“Eat up, Stevie,” he says. “We don’t want to be late.” In the end she throws herself into the second chair at the kitchen table and eats like she’s a mass murderer devouring her marshmallow victims. Rhett doesn’t know how he got stuck with the two most stubborn, headstrong, irritating people on the planet but he’s sure as hell stuck now. He guesses it could be worse. He could be alone. But Stevie drops her empty bowl into the sink so angrily she shatters it and okay. Maybe he would be better off alone. 

 

Rehearsal goes on as it always does but for a few minor differences. The kids are all on edge, eying the doors to the auditorium when they think Rhett’s not looking. They talk in little groups when they’re not up, whispering and peeking to see if he can hear them. And Robbie is nowhere to be found. He wasn’t in class, they tell Rhett, and they don’t know where he is. He lets the kids whisper and fidget, too nervous to stand still and act for long, but he’s not ready to cut rehearsal short just yet. Link sits cross legged at his side, hands folded in his lap, eyes on the stage. Rhett doesn’t think he’s moved a muscle in over an hour. Either he’s turned to stone or he’s thinking hard as Rhett is, trying to come up with a solution for this mess. 

He can’t cancel the play. He can’t. It’s all he has, this stupid Disney musical, and if he gave it up he doesn’t know what he would do. He needs help; he needs someone to tell him what to do. For the first time in his life he regrets cutting off his family. He could really use a third party, someone far from this, someone with some common sense. Stevie has none and Link has even less, Rhett the least of all. He’s going to end up getting killed or worse, getting Stevie or the kids hurt because he just had to draw the attention of a night crawling nymphomaniac. He fidgets just as badly as the kids in his seat in the audience and hopes no one takes notice. Stevie sits on the stage, her back to Rhett, and she motions where she wants the kids to stand with her hands. It’s a relief to be away from her scrutinizing for a moment but even so Rhett wishes she would look at him and see he’s sitting here suffering in silence. He feels his head could explode for everything inside it; he wants to rip it off his shoulders and empty it out. 

Link moves and Rhett almost falls out of his seat in shock. But he doesn’t move far. All he does is place one hand on Rhett’s knee and squeeze. He doesn’t look at Rhett; he makes no acknowledgement that he moved at all. Rhett likes the weight of it, the feeling that Link’s with him, and with him is where he wants Link to be. Rhett looks at him instead of the kids for a beat too long and he squeezes hard, his lips quirking up almost imperceptibly when Rhett squeaks in pain.

“You enjoy the strangest things,” Rhett leans over to whisper. Link ignores him, eyes still locked on the kids as they practice Belle’s first entrance into the castle. Ian stands obediently still, his candelabra hands held tight in his fists. Rhett’s Cogsworth stands just as still at his side. Amelia, decked out in her big blue hair ribbon and her blue dress, tiptoes across the stage calling for her father. Any other day the scene would captivate Rhett. But today Link sits at his side and he’s too much, too close, his hand too big on Rhett’s thigh. If he moves Link’ll think he’s got him and he very much doesn’t, not at all. Rhett has him. If he doesn’t move he’ll think he scares him, that he’s big and tough and he’s got Rhett pinned. The choice to slip out of his seat and run away seems the most viable. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t get the chance to do anything. The back door of the auditorium slams open and every head in the room snaps up. Rhett’s on his feet at the same time as Link and Robbie stands in the back of the room, face pale and jaw set tight.

“Hi,” he says. “I’m here.” He makes his way towards the stage, his mouth a grim line, and Rhett is too shocked to do anything but watch him go. At least he’s not the only one; every person on the stage stands stock still right along with him. Robbie reaches the stage and holds one hand out, shaking it, impatient, when no one moves. “Help me up, wouldja?” he asks. Ian moves first and he takes Robbie’s hand to yank him up on stage. “Thanks.” Robbie dusts himself off and straightens up and looks hard at Rhett. “Well?” he asks. “Are we doing this or not?”

“Robbie,” Rhett says, and Robbie rolls his eyes. “Robbie, where have you been?”

“I’ve been busy,” he says. He shoves his dark hair from his eyes and glares at Amelia when she tries to reach for him. She shrinks back. Stevie is closer to Robbie than Rhett is and she tries to reach out next, Robbie sidestepping her hands and tipping his head back to face the ceiling. “My brother is dead,” he says. “All right? I want to be here and I want to rehearse and I don’t want anyone to mention it to me. Ever. All right?” Stevie’s mouth drops open in horror and Link stiffens at Rhett’s side.

“Oh, shit,” Ian breathes, and Robbie nods.

“I know. Looks like the killer got him. Found him in the…in the fucking river. All right? Can we move on now, please? I don’t even want to tell you what I had to do to get away from my mom and come here.”

“Oh, honey, you should be home…”

“No offense, Ms. Levine, but that’s fucking bullshit.” Robbie shakes her off again, Stevie trying her best to get close to Robbie and lend him comfort, but Robbie doesn’t want it. “I don’t want to talk about it. That’s not a lot to ask. Let me fucking act, please, will you?” Stevie looks at Rhett for help and Rhett’s the last person in the room who should be offering advice. He backs away a step and Link takes one forward, placing his hands on the stage and looking up at Rhett’s frightened and murmuring cast. 

“Robbie,” he says, and Robbie looks down at him. “Does your mother know you’re here?” Robbie shakes his head, anger bubbling up in his face. 

“No,” he says. “What, are you going to send me home?”

“No,” Link replies. “I’m going to drive you. Come with me, please.” Robbie laughs, humorless.

“Make me,” he says. Rhett’s Beast crosses his arms over his chest and his supporting cast all look to Rhett, the one who’s supposed to fix this, who is supposed to make this right. He has no idea where to start. 

“Link, if he wants to rehearse…” Rhett says.

“The play is over five weeks away,” Link tells him. “One day won’t hurt.”

“Yes, it will,” Robbie says. “I’m not leaving. I’m the lead and you need me.”

“Your family needs you, Rob,” Link says. “Come on. Let’s get you home.” Robbie stares Link down like he wants to burn a hole in him. At the moment Rhett feels much the same. He’s too much, too good, too present and too big. He doesn’t know what to make of the burning he causes in his chest and he has no idea what to do with the surety of Link’s voice. He holds a hand out to help Robbie off the stage that Robbie chooses to ignore. 

“Where’s my fucking script?” he asks no one in particular. 

“Honey, there’s no need to swear,” Stevie says, but Robbie fixes her with a look that makes her go quiet. 

“I need a script, Mr. M.,” he says. He looks only at Rhett and he realizes with a start what he’s doing. He’s pleading with him. He wants Rhett to save him, to tell him he can stay, so he doesn’t have to go home and face what he’s lost. Rhett understands; his heart hurts just catching a flicker of what he’s fighting hard to bite down. But it’s going to come up and there’s nothing Rhett can do about it. That’s the thing about heartache. There’s no hiding it. 

“Robbie, I think you ought to take some time off,” Rhett tells him, and his face falls so fast Rhett’s stomach drops with it. He’s sorry, he wants to tell him, but he doesn’t give Rhett the chance. 

“You’re really doing this to me, then?” he asks. “I’m being punished because your psychotic boyfriend couldn’t even keep his own kind from killing my brother? Or was it him, Mr. M.? Was it Link who killed my brother?” He looks at Link, fury twisting up his face, and whatever Stevie murmurs to him is the final straw. He tears his arm from her grasp and he hops off the stage, Link stepping out of his way. Robbie marches, arms crossed, back the way he came. 

“Robbie, please don’t go alone!” Amelia shouts after him, his cast offering a resounding sound of agreement. 

“Rob, please!” Adam calls. 

“Robbie, I can drive you home! Just wait!” Ian jumps off the stage but Robbie’s already out the door, pounding out of the building. Ian follows him. The door slams shut behind them. Rhett is not cut out for this. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s never been taught how to deal with something like this, with vampires and murder, and before he manages to make a choice he hears a body slamming into the auditorium door. 

“Shit.” He dashes to the back of the room, Stevie already on his heels, and the door falls open and Ian spills back into the auditorium.

“He punched me!” Ian cries, his hands on his face, and Rhett watches Robbie’s back as he storms away. 

“Oh, honey,” Stevie says. She pulls Ian up off the ground and brings him back inside. Link and Rhett watch Robbie disappear down the street, vanishing among the trees, and Rhett has never felt so hopeless in all his life.

“Link,” he says, and he tries his best not to wail. 

“Yes?”

“I have to cancel my play.”

“I think that would be best.”

“A little sympathy would be nice,” Rhett groans. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, stoic in the setting sun. Rhett hates him for it, the stoniness of his face. He really does. “But I think that would be best.” 

“Great,” Rhett says.

“I know.” With Robbie goes all he’s been working for all year and he leans against the school and wills all of it to go away. It doesn’t, of course it doesn’t, and Link asks if he can ask Rhett a question. He doesn’t like the hesitance in Link’s voice one bit but he figures things can’t get much worse no matter what he wants. 

“Do you want me to go after them for what they did?” 

“No,” Rhett tells him, closing his eyes. “Believe it or not, I don’t want you to get yourself killed.”

“I might have a chance,” he says, and the offer is tempting. Rhett wants to rip their heads off himself for what they did to Robbie, the poor, stupid kid walking home all alone. But he tells Link no. It’s hard to admit but he tells him the truth. 

“I like having you around, Link,” he says. “Actually, I really like having you around. Please don’t disappear again just yet.” Link pauses, leaning on the wall beside Rhett, and eventually he tells him okay. He won’t. He’ll stick around. “Thanks,” Rhett says, and they say nothing at all for a while. Rhett finds himself with his head propped on the top of Link’s head; he finds Link supporting him. And Rhett doesn’t care. He needs it. Why the hell can’t he act like it for once? For now he does. And Link stands still like he’d stand still for all of time, just like this for Rhett. It’s fine. It’s just fine.

 

Stevie, Link and Rhett are watching Judge Judy on Rhett’s sofa bed when the brand new town wide curfew is announced. The news interrupts Judge Judy shouting at some idiot and immediately Link stiffens at Rhett’s side. Stevie turns the TV up and leans in close as the news anchor explains the curfew. Every person in the city under the age of eighteen is to stay in their homes starting at nine o’clock, she says, following the discovery of the serial killer’s newest victim. Everyone else is suggested to stay inside unless they’re dying or working for the dying. Link sighs as the anchor speaks and Rhett asks him what he’s being so dramatic about. 

“I’m just relieved,” he says, “that I don’t have to worry about the kids so much anymore. They’ll have police all over the city looking for people breaking curfew.” Rhett has to admit he agrees. The thought of losing any of the kids is too much to dwell on. He has yet to announce the cancelation of his play; the last thing he wants to see is the looks on their faces when he tells them. There’s always the spring play, he’ll tell them, but it’s Amelia’s senior year and he can already see her crestfallen face at the thought of losing Belle. Rhett doesn’t want to do it but he doesn’t have a choice. Tomorrow at rehearsal he has to tell them it’s the last one. They’ll fight and cry and if he’s being honest with himself, he probably will, too. But he already has parents pulling kids out of class, scared to even let them go to school in broad daylight, and this play is not going to survive the monsters bearing down on the city.

Link apologizes over and over but Rhett doesn’t accept it. None of it is his fault. Rhett tells him it’s all right even though it’s not; if he didn’t have classes to teach he would already be long gone. All he wants to do is run away and pretend all this was a fever dream or something. Pretending is what he does best, after all. 

“I wish the curfew was earlier,” Stevie sighs, dragging Rhett out of his own head. “It gets dark way before nine.” 

“I know,” Link tells her. “But it was the best I could manage. I fought for so long just to get the mayor to see me, never mind agree with me. I got him in the end by asking him how he knows his kids are safe when they’re out playing in the streets at night. I did my best.”

“You did well, Link,” Stevie says. She has her head on his shoulder and her hands in her braid, playing idly with the end. “Thank you.” The show comes back on and Judge Judy is still yelling, Stevie curling her hair around her fingers and no longer paying much attention. Link looks far away, too, his brow furrowed and mouth turned down. Rhett reaches across Stevie to press at the space between Link’s eyes above the bridge of his glasses and tells him to lighten up.

“Coming from you,” Stevie says, and she swats Rhett’s arm out of her face. She acts invested in the show, leaning forward on her elbows like she’s been watching the whole time, and when Rhett peeks at Link over her head he’s got a tiny smile on his face. There’s not much else Rhett can do besides smile back at him. So he does.

“I lo-,” Link begins, but Stevie hits him on the leg and cries that she’s _watching this_ , for God’s sake, and could they _please_ stop talking before she _kills_ them. And if Rhett gets touchy when he’s scared she gets monstrous, flaring up over the smallest things, but Rhett can’t fault her for it. They are too much alike for him to have the right. So he shuts his mouth and tries not to look at Link again; he can feel his eyes all over him and he wishes Link would stop staring. It makes it awfully hard to ignore him. Rhett tries his best, glancing once or twice, and every time he catches Rhett’s eye Link beams. He wants something from Rhett and he has no idea what it is. 

Later, when Stevie falls asleep on the sofa and Link manages to get out from under her, Rhett finds out why Link looks at him like he sees him for the first time. He shoves Rhett against the wall of his bedroom and latches onto his neck. 

“Link,” Rhett breathes. He pulls off Rhett’s throat just far enough to speak, his tongue hot on Rhett’s skin.

“I’m happy to keep Stevie here,” he says, “just to keep her safe. But Jesus, Rhett, her presence makes it impossible to tear the clothes off you whenever I want.”

“Hmm,” Rhett replies, humming as Link’s cold hands glide down his body. “And how often is that?” 

“Basically,” Link says, “it’s whenever I’m awake.” He bites down on Rhett’s neck, sucking a bruise into his skin, and he arches his back up into the touch. Okay. So maybe he wanted this, too. It’s too hot in here, way too hot, and how does it feel like it’s been years since he’s had this? Link’s hands cool Rhett down, slipping into his shirt. With their bodies pressed together it gets hard to think about anything else. And what’s wrong with that, anyway? Rhett takes hold of Link’s hair with one hand and makes him let go of his neck. Link groans in protest, hands fisting into Rhett’s shirt, but the moment Rhett captures his lips his whining subsides. The first kiss is a dirty one, desperate, like Rhett hasn’t kissed Link in eons, millennia. And the second kiss is just the same, Link breaking away first to grab Rhett by his collar and throw him on him bed. 

“I want you,” Link breathes. He stands at the foot of Rhett’s bed with his chest heaving, looking down at Rhett where he lies, and Rhett wants him, too. All of him. He just doesn’t tell him yet.

“Then take your clothes off, idiot,” Rhett tells him, and he does. He drags his shirt over his head and it’s dim in Rhett’s room but not too dark to see the lines of his lean body, the muscles in his chest. And Christ, Rhett never had a chance, did he? He was a goner the first time he saw Link. Link’s jeans hit the floor and then he’s on top of Rhett, pinning him to the bed by his hips, lips at his throat. 

“I’ve missed you,” Link says. Like he had any time to miss Rhett, to feel far from him. But Link nips at his throat and he thinks he knows what Link means. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rhett says. He bucks his hips up just enough to make Link groan and as he opens his mouth Rhett bites at his lips. He takes it well, being the one who’s bitten for once, and good. Rhett wants control of something; he needs control of something in his life. So he takes control of Link. He surges up and rolls them over, Link beautiful and mewling in contentment beneath him. He’s positively feline as Rhett leans in to listen to him purr, small noises coming from the back of his throat. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, eyes half lidded and locked on Rhett’s mouth. 

“I’m trying desperately to have control of something.” Link wiggles in Rhett’s grasp and hums. 

“So you think you can take control of me?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” Again Link squirms, licking at his lips, and as he writhes naked beneath Rhett he tries to hide how little control he has. It’s not fair, the way his muscles twitch beneath his skin, raven hair falling in his eyes. His eyes are soft but they are the only soft part of him. And Rhett has to admit he just might be powerless. And he’s done pretending it’s not obvious. There are too many things between the two of them, Rhett’s jeans and shirt and underwear. No matter how hard he tries he can’t get close enough to him; he can’t get enough. “Rhett,” Link breathes, tongue graceful around the name. “If you want control, it’s yours. Take it.”

So he does.

Link helps Rhett out of his clothes, his hands as hungry as his mouth, and he rips the buttons from Rhett’s shirt. The buttons pop off and scatter and Rhett takes hold of Link’s hands as they wander to his shoulders. He tries to pull Rhett close and he takes Link’s wrists in one hand, pinning them over his head. Link does nothing but watch Rhett, his lip held between his teeth. 

“I’m going to tie you to the bed,” Rhett tells him. “And I’m going to make this as slow and painful as I can.” Link smiles and Rhett tightens his grip on Link’s wrists until he frowns. 

“Okay,” he says. He plays it cool and he plays it well but he can’t fool Rhett. He’s gone still in the bed, frozen beneath Rhett. So neither of them has control. That’s fine by Rhett. Link looks up at him, helpless, and Rhett looks down at him. And he’s giving Rhett this, giving Rhett power over him, and it’s not something he’s ever had before. It makes him feel a little lost. 

“What’s wrong, love?” Link asks, and his voice is so silky around the word Rhett doesn’t even have it in him to flinch. 

“You give so much to me,” Rhett says, and he nods.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I lo-“

“Never mind.” The moment is over as fast as it began and Rhett surges forward just in time to shut Link up with a kiss that makes his head spin. His mouth is sweet and his heart is fluttering and Rhett’s is doing something a little closer to pounding. Link lets Rhett quiet him and he’s grateful, relieved. He doesn’t have control over anything. Not even his stupid heart, his stupid brain, and it’s fine. For now it’s fine; he doesn’t have time to worry with Link biting hungry kisses into his mouth. 

Rhett doesn’t mean to but he says something he’s never been able to say before. It makes Link smile, grinning as he kisses Rhett, and good. He deserves it; he deserves to smile and feel something good in the midst of all the shit tearing through the city. And it’s a goddamn gift, isn’t it, that Rhett can give it to him. 

“You’re mine,” Rhett breathes, and Link sighs. 

“I am?” he asks.

“You are.” Rhett presses his lips to Link’s cheek, to his eye, to his jaw. 

“I was hoping you would decide as much,” he replies.

“Shut up.”

“Hmm,” Link hums. “Make me.” And Rhett does. It’s the least he can do.

 

Later Link lounges in Rhett’s bed, his head hanging over the side. He’s utterly boneless, limp and compliant, with one wrist still tied with a bandana to the headboard. He asks Rhett if he’s planning on untying him anytime soon and Rhett tells him no. He looks good just like this, lazy and slow and tired. There’s sweat shining in the dip between his collarbones and Rhett just barely resists the urge to lick it off. He’s such a goner. 

“’M gonna fall asleep tied to this bed if you don’t free me soon,” Link says.

“Good.”

“Hmm.” Rhett watches Link breathe, his chest rising and falling, and Rhett moves closer to him in the bed. It’s cold in Rhett’s room and he shivers as sweat cools on his skin, his heart just beginning to slow down. Link starts when Rhett touches careful fingertips to his thigh; he watches Rhett’s hand as he traces mindless patterns up to Link’s hip. 

“What are you doing?” he asks. 

“I’m not showing you an obscene amount of affection, that’s for sure.”

“Ah, see, that’s what I thought you might be doing. I got worried for a second.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t do affection.” Link’s gaze slides to Rhett’s face as he presses one palm flat to his chest. 

“You’re so warm,” he says. 

“Only in body temperature,” Rhett reminds him.

“Of course. No one would ever accuse you of being a warm person, Rhett. Least of all me.” Link grabs for Rhett’s fingers with his free hand and catches his hand up. Rhett lets him. It’s a normal thing to do, isn’t it, to show wonder in a lover’s body? Still, Link sees the tremor in Rhett’s hand as he holds it and he frowns. 

“Honeybee,” he says, and Rhett should be used to it by now, the softening of his voice when he calls him things like that. But he’s not. It makes him want to run away. 

“Yeah?” 

“Someday I want you to tell me who hurt you,” he says. He presses Rhett’s palm to his face and Rhett strokes at his cheek, Link’s eyes slipping closed. 

“No one hurt me, Link.”

“You’re lying,” he says. “And that’s okay. I understand. But someone made you like this, Rhett, didn’t they?”

“Like what?”

“Like you always carry in the back of your mind the fear of losing things you love.”

“I don’t…”

“Love me, I know. Fine.” Link gives a tug at the red bandana binding him to the bed and it doesn’t give at all. “But Rhett, there has to be a reason why you won’t even look at me sometimes. I wish you would tell me.” 

“Maybe I had a messed up childhood,” Rhett says. Link looks hard at Rhett and he looks away. Rhett hates him when he gets this somber, like everything he has rides on Rhett giving him the answers he wants. It’s not fair. 

“Did you?”

“It’s none of your business.” Rhett pulls his hand away from Link’s face and decides to leave him tied up for the night, helpless and bound at an awkward angle until morning. But he grabs Rhett back by the hand and pulls him close. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t mean to pry. It’s just there’s so much more I want to know than what you’re willing to give.”

“Then maybe go find another pleasure fucker.” His mouth falls open and shit. _Shit_ , Rhett’s hurt him; he’s really done it now. It never fails. 

“Is that what I am to you?” he asks. And he wants the truth, his stupid face stupidly open, and Rhett can’t lie to a face like that. He’s handing Rhett everything, all of him. There’s nothing he can do.

“Yes,” Rhett lies anyway, and he watches Link’s face fall. “But you’re also my teacher’s aide. So. You’re not _just_ a pleasure fucker. Just…mostly one.” He frowns like he wants to fight Rhett on it, like he doesn’t want to let it go, but Rhett’s begging him here without saying it that he can’t do this right now. _Please, please let this be it for now_ , he tries to make Link see. He can’t give Link anything more. 

“You know what, Rhett?” he asks, his free hand going for Rhett’s waist. “Coming from you? I’ll take it.” And Rhett’s so grateful he could cry as Link drags Rhett back on top of him, squeezing at the back of his thigh with his free hand. “I’ll take anything you give me,” Link says, and fine. Fine. Maybe Rhett can give him a little bit more. He tightens the bandana on Link’s wrist until he squeaks and he tightens it some more. Link purrs and this is better. This is good. Rhett feels the best when they’re not saying a thing, when there’s nothing for him to be but a body and a mouth. It’s easy. It’s good. 

He leans in to give Link a kiss to make up for all the wrong he does by him. But as the bed shrieks beneath Rhett something hard thumps against the wall and falls to the floor outside his room. 

“Once was enough!” Stevie shouts from the living room. “You are aware we have school in the morning, no?!” Link breaks down laughing beneath Rhett and he shouts back an apology, Stevie sighing loud enough for him to hear through then bedroom door. 

“Should we go to sleep, then?” Link asks, devilish in the orange light cast by streetlamps outside the window. 

“I have a better idea,” Rhett whispers back. He unties the blue bandana from the headboard and rolls it up, Link watching him in the dark. “Open up,” he says, and after a beat Link obeys. He opens his mouth and Rhett not so gently stuffs it into his mouth, Link gagging around the fabric. Good. Good.

“Now hush,” Rhett commands, and he does. It’s good, it’s good, it’s good. It’s all good. Link tosses his head back, eyes closing, and Rhett keeps him pinned to the bed with a hand on his chest. Whatever the hell he is, whatever the hell he wants Rhett to be, he’s Rhett’s. He’s his. And Rhett makes sure with every move and every kiss and every bruise that he doesn’t forget it. 

So maybe he still has control over one thing. He gets to decide what this means to him. And he’s not as scared as he should be when he decides maybe it’s time to give Link a little more. Just not tonight. Not now. Link whimpers, his chest vibrating with it, and Rhett hushes him as best he can.

“You’re good,” Rhett breathes. “Hey, you’re good.” It’s all good. 

 

Link and Rhett hold hands, fingers laced, as they step into the auditorium for the last time. The kids are already onstage with Stevie, dressed in costumes with their hair done up just right, and Rhett can’t do this. There’s no way he can stand here and tell them this is the end; they’ve lost their lead and they’ve lost their play and everything they’ve worked for hasn’t meant a thing. 

“I changed my mind,” Rhett tells Link as Stevie catches sight of them and waves. “You tell them.”

“You have to do it, honeybee,” he says. Rhett takes his hand from Link and brushes his hair back, the kids heading backstage for their scripts as they realize Rhett’s arrived. 

“No,” Rhett says. “I’m moving to Montana where none of this is real.”

“There are school plays and vampires in Montana, babe.” 

“There are? Are they the same?”

“Well, I’m assuming there’s only so many ways you can change a play and still…”

“Not the plays, Link. Jesus, the vampires. Are they just as awful as they are here?” 

“Hey!”

“Present company excluded, of course.”

“Mr. M., have you seen my script?” Amelia asks, and Rhett tells her with a wave of his hand it’s under Robbie’s Beast hands where she _always_ leaves it. She fishes it out and thanks Rhett as he sinks, hopeless, into his seat in the front row of the audience. Link sits at his side. 

“Vampires are just like people, really,” Link says as Rhett laces up his hands and twiddles his thumbs. He’s just trying to kill time but for now Link buys it. 

“I can’t find Heather’s cap, Rhett!” Stevie says, dashing from one side of the stage to the other. Her long hair flies out behind her, she moves so fast, and she pauses just long enough for Rhett to point and guide her to where it hangs off the side of the set. Stevie sets about attaching Heather’s Mrs. Potts teapot top with bobby pins and Rhett keeps trying to buy as much time as he can.

“Tell me about the vampires in Montana, then.”

“I’ve never been to Montana, love.”

“Stop calling me pet names. You’re stressing me the hell out.”

“Sorry, Mr. McLaughlin,” Link says. And Rhett can’t take this. He jostles Rhett’s shoulder like he might think he’s actually funny, teasing Rhett when he’s about to have a panic attack and melt away into the floor. 

“Just tell me about the vampires,” Rhett says.

“They’re the same,” he says. “But different. Same as like, a person from Massachusetts versus a person from California. The same, just maybe with a different accent and a different lifestyle. Like, the vampires in California? They don’t get out much. Not here at least. There’s too much sun. They hide a lot more than the vampires from New England, or even upstate California.”

“Uh huh,” Rhett says, trying hard to swallow around the lump forming in his throat. He’s going to cry right here and he’s never going to hear the end of it. He should stop the kids now and get them home; he should do it now to make it easier. But the longer he waits the less he wants to do it. He wants to give them this last rehearsal, this last moment like everything is okay. But it’s not, the loss of Robbie setting them just a touch on edge. It’s not easy to pretend. 

“Are you all right?” Link asks. Like he’s only catching on now. 

“I’ve been better,” Rhett replies. His voice comes out terrible, thick, heavy, and he clears his throat to try and ease it away. He doesn’t want the kids to know how hard this is for him. He doesn’t want them to be sadder than they have to be. He can make this easy if he wants to.

“I’m sorry, Rhett,” Link says. He kisses the side of Rhett’s head and Ian and Adam see, immediately lunging for each other and putting on a show, stage kissing with their bodies pressed together. 

“Oh, stop!” Rhett says. They pull apart laughing, falling over each other, and Rhett can’t do this. He really, truly can’t do this. “Please either kill me, pull the fire alarm, or tell them yourself,” he begs of Link. 

“Oh, honey, I know…”

“If you don’t stop calling me shit like that I’m going to dump you right here and right now in front of everyone.” Link seems taken aback.

“Ah, so are we an item then?” he asks. 

“Do you remember what I did last night?” Rhett asks, leaning close. Link looks back at him, somber. “The part where you almost cried?”

“I did cry,” Link reminds Rhett, and okay. So maybe he did, just a little. Rhett tries not to let it go to his head. 

“In any case, you remember.”

“Mhm,” he hums. 

“That’s never going to happen again if you don’t stop calling me by anything but my name for a while. It’s too much, Link. Please.”

Link frowns. “Okay,” he says. “But if we’re doing that, I suppose I should be honest and tell you my name isn’t really Link.” He laughs at the horror Rhett feels flashing across his face and he says, “I’m only joking. It’s just too easy to scare you. It always has been.”

“Always,” Rhett scoffs, like there’s years of history to fall back on. Like they have time under their belts. He’s had enough. He stands up and claps his hands together to get the attention of the cast and he tells them, “Today we’re going to practice the big fight scene between the villagers and the furniture. Who’s ready for some choreography?” A dozen hands shoot up in the air; the kids have been dying to do some play fighting for weeks. Rhett can let them have it even if it’s the last thing they get to do. 

“I wish Robbie was here,” Amelia sighs, and Rhett’s heart sinks for them as his cast nods and murmurs in agreement. 

“It’s not his scene,” Rhett says, “and that’s why we’re doing it. Don’t you want to fight a little?”

“What I really want to be fighting is the person who’s out there killing people,” Adam says, his voice full of the authority Gaston has taught him. 

“Me too,” Amelia agrees. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Stevie says as she tightens up the back of Amelia’s dress for the last time. “None of you babies really know how to fight. That’s why we’re going to teach you.” She winks at Rhett from behind Amelia and he’s happy he has her, at least, someone who can be there for the kids when he doesn’t know how. 

“Link?” Amelia asks, and Link’s head snaps up. 

“Yes?” 

“Do you know anything about fighting? For real fighting, not play fighting.”

Rhett looks back at Link and tries to plead with him to lie, to tell these insane kids there’s no reason for them to be prepared to fight a vampire, but he looks at Amelia and nods. 

“A little,” he says. “Why?”

“Because my mom is scared to even let me come to school,” Amelia says. Stevie’s hands are trembling as she ties up Amelia’s bow and the playfulness in her face is gone as fast as it came. She eyes Rhett behind Amelia’s back like she wants him to say the same thing he wants Link to say: no. But he doesn’t.

“Mine, too,” Heather agrees. “She wants to home school me until the killer is caught. Threatened to take my car and everything so I can’t even come to school.” She shakes her head and Stevie tells her to cut it out before she topples her tiny cap. Heather ignores her, her eyes boring into Link. “Well?” she asks when he doesn’t say a thing. He sits still with his gaze on the kids and Rhett waits for him, breathless, to make a move. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says, speaking slowly. “I can promise nothing will happen to any of you as long as you pay attention to the curfew. There’s no reason you need to know how to defend yourselves.”

“That’s bullshit!” Amelia says, stomping her foot on the stage.

“Hey, now,” Stevie tries. Amelia’s bow comes loose and Stevie throws her hands up. “Let me get that- get back here!” Amelia ignores her, making her way to the edge of the stage in her yellow high heels. She sits down hard on the stage and fans her dress out around her like rays of sunshine, the rest of the cast following suit. One by one their asses hit the floor and Rhett has no idea what to do. They sit with their legs and arms crossed, waiting, and he would love nothing more than to run away. He wasn’t made to deal with this; it’s too much. How is one person supposed to be able to control this many headstrong kids, anyway? Why did he think it would be a good idea to try and teach theater kids, of all people? He should have known he would be stuck with kids as stubborn as these. He deserves this. Still, the knowledge doesn’t help one bit. 

“Get up,” Rhett says. “We have to have rehearsal. We’re running out of time.”

“We have weeks to get this right,” Amelia says. “I can wait.” 

“We don’t have weeks,” Rhett says, and despite his apprehension it all comes spilling out. “This is it, guys. I’m sorry.” Stevie backs away from the kids as if to protect herself from the incoming storm and Rhett understands. He wants to do the same. “I have no choice. With everything that’s going on I have to cancel the play.” A few quiet moments follow Rhett’s admission before the room erupts. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Ian cries.

“Don’t swear!” Stevie replies. 

“Mr. McLaughlin, you can’t be serious-“

“Why are you doing this to us? We _can_ behave, we just choose not to-“

“This is bullshit! All the work for nothing?” 

“This play is the only thing I have, Mr. M.; I’m not doing so well in my classes and if I lose the only thing I’m good at my dad will dis _own_ me…”

A piercing whistle shuts everyone up at once. Rhett finds Link on his feet with his fingers in his mouth, demanding silence. 

“Okay,” he says. “If you stop shouting at Rhett for trying to keep you ungrateful idiots alive I will teach you to fight.” It’s the first time Link has lost his patience with them and it’s not lost on the kids; they gape in silence for long enough to make Rhett nervous. Finally Heather squares her shoulders and says, 

“Deal.”

“Good,” Link replies. “Now stand up and shut up.” They obey with far more speed than Rhett would ever get from them, climbing to their feet on the stage and waiting for their next instruction. In one fluid motion Link scoops Rhett up into his arms like a newlywed, hops with him up onto the stage, sets Rhett down and wraps one arm around his throat, turning him around to drag Rhett back into his chest. 

“Hey!” he gripes, but it soon becomes obvious this is lesson number one. Link tightens his hold, Rhett’s throat squeezed in the crook of his elbow, and he lets up when Rhett chokes.

“Chokehold,” Link says. “It’s easy enough to get the hang of.” His breath is hot in Rhett’s ear and he watches not one of his kids come to his rescue; they are enraptured by Link’s lesson. Fine. That’s fine. Good to know he can count on them. “Honeybee,” Link coos despite Rhett’s threat. “Do you mind terribly if I use you as an example?” 

“Oh, go ahead,” Rhett says. “It’s not like I have any dignity to lose.” Link chuckles in his ear and throws him on the floor. He spends the next hour throwing Rhett around, pinning him, tangling up his limbs at painful angles. Truth be told it’s awful close to last night. Rhett takes what Link gives him and rolls his eyes at the oohs and aahs coming from the kids. They eat this shit up, cheering as Link demonstrates a series of fast paced punches that have Rhett shouting for mercy. 

“Wait, can you do it again?” Oliver Dean asks once Link lets up, fists up close to his face. “Mr. M. gave me a B minus on my drama final last year.”

“Only because you forgot your lines halfway through your soliloquy, Oliver,” Rhett reminds him, but the moment he finishes his sentence Link has him again, this time pulling him into a half nelson, dragging his arm back and pressing a hand to the back of his head. 

“Try this,” he says. “And hold tight. I know of ways to knock someone out like this but they wouldn’t work on vampires. So there’s no real point in showing you.” Rhett’s treacherous students beg for them anyway but luckily for Rhett, knocking him out is where Link draws the line. 

Later, as Link lets Amelia hold him in a headlock to show her how to grip, she asks him if he’s sure the killer is a vampire. 

“I’m sure,” he chokes under her arm. 

“Why don’t you stop them?” she asks. 

“I tried,” he said.

“And you couldn’t?” Amelia holds Link too tight and he begins to gasp for air, tongue lolling out. 

“Nope,” he grunts. 

“Why not? You seem big and scary to me.” Link takes hold of Amelia’s arm and pulls it from his windpipe just enough to drag in a huge breath. 

“The vampires live in clans, you see,” he explains. “Except for me, I guess. They don’t like being threatened. I found out they were the ones killing people in my city and they gave me an ultimatum.”

“What’s that?” Amelia asks. Link’s chest heaves as he tries to breathe, Rhett’s Belle a lot stronger than she looks. Stevie practices collar ties with the boys; she has Ian pressed to the floor with one hand on the back of his neck. This is silly, this whole thing meaningless, but if it makes the kids feel better Rhett’s not going to make them stop. If it makes them feel safe then that’s all right by him. He watches the chaos from the side of the stage and tries not to dwell too much on what he’s going to do without them. 

“They told me if I go after them again they are going to come after Rhett,” Link tells Amelia. “And then they are going to come after you.” Amelia drops her hold on Link so fast he hits the stage on all fours, coming up fast and spinning on his heels to face her. “What’s the matter?” he asks. Amelia looks stricken as she looks up at him. 

“Oh, Link,” she says. Rhett’s barely close enough to hear them speak and he steps closer, Link’s gaze flicking up to him. “You’re risking the lives of everyone else in the city to protect the man you love? Oh, Link, that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard!” And okay, time to shut this down. It’s almost six o’clock and these kids need to go home. Rhett steps away again and claps his hands. The kids choose to ignore him.

“Hey!” he calls. And he gets nothing. Of course not. “Hello?” he asks. “Anybody home?” The kids keep wrestling, fighting in pairs, and Stevie fusses endlessly over Heather’s cap as she fights with Adam. So Stevie won’t be any help. Fine. Link is either hugging Amelia or trying to teach her another sort of chokehold. So fine. Rhett’s on his own. He makes his way backstage and does the only thing he can think of. He turns out the lights. Right away he’s answered with a flurry of screams, bodies hitting the stage and people tripping over one another. 

“Are you done?” Rhett shouts, one hand on the switch. 

“Never!” Ian cries. He cries out in pain next and Amelia tells Rhett yes, they are done, and could Rhett please turn the lights back on before she freaks out? He waits for the kids to go quiet. But before he can turn the lights on there’s a body pressing him to the wall, Link’s hands on his ass and his lips at Rhett’s ear. 

“Let me close my eyes first,” he breathes, and Rhett nods. It’s pitch black back here, the only light that of the red exit signs in the back of the auditorium. But Rhett gets the feeling Link can see everything. 

“Link,” he says, and Link parts his lips against the skin behind Rhett’s ear.

“Yes?”

“Can you see me?”

“Yes. I see so much more than you think I do.” Okay, so this moment needs to end. Link has a habit of snapping Rhett out of moments as soon as they begin. It’s for the best, he guesses; it keeps him from saying things he’ll have to take back later. 

“Right,” he says, and he turns the lights back on. Link’s hands are gone in an instant. He backs off, groaning in pain, and maybe it wasn’t so nice of Rhett to not give him a warning. 

“Shit, Rhett, why are you such an ass?” he asks, hands over his streaming eyes. Like it’s news to him that Rhett’s an emotionally stunted high school kid in a thirty-nine year old man’s body. Like he hasn’t spent the past month learning Rhett takes every opportunity he gets to do the wrong thing. 

“I’m sorry, babe,” Rhett says, and brushes past him, leaving him rubbing at his eyes and cursing under his breath. Rhett takes his place center stage and makes the kids mill around him. Ian has a big bruise on his cheek and Oliver has a limp he didn’t have when he arrived. If their parents don’t kill Rhett themselves it will be a miracle. Heather massages a welt on the side of her head and Adam’s lip is bruised, blood on his teeth. They really did a number on each other, Rhett’s crazy kids, and he can’t believe how much he’s going to miss them. How badly he wishes he didn’t have to let them go. 

He steels himself and try and say his piece before he does something awful like burst into tears. “So,” he says with a clap of his hands. “This is it. Our last rehearsal. I would say it’s been a pleasure but it’s a sin to lie.” Luckily the kids chuckle; they must know by now his affection can be read through the way he teases them. “Anyway, I’m even sorrier than you are we couldn’t see this through. It sucks. I know it does. But I’ll still see you guys in class, yeah? And maybe this will have cooled down by spring and we can still put on a helluva spring play. What do you say?” 

“Please don’t cry, Mr. M. I’ll never stop if you start.” Rhett curses himself for his inability to keep his voice from shaking and tells Heather he’s not going to cry even if he is. He hasn’t decided just yet. 

“Anyway,” he says. “Let’s get you idiots home.” He wants to say more; there’s a million things he can say to them that are probably better left unsaid. Silly things like admitting they mean the world to him. Stuff they don’t need to hear. By the time Rhett locks the auditorium behind him Amelia and Heather are arm in arm, tears coursing down their cheeks. Link has tears on his face, too, but Rhett thinks it’s from the changes in light he inflicted on him. Rhett has to guide him to his car, the DeLorean shining in the setting sun, and the kids who don’t have rides home climb into the back. 

“Please tell me this gets up to eighty-eight,” Trevor Benson says, Ian climbing into the car and settling on his lap, five kids crammed into the backseat. 

“Not with all your dead weight,” Link replies. He casts a wink Rhett’s way like this is all right, they’re good, they’re fine. Stevie waves as she passes by in her car, six kids in the back of her hatchback. Rhett leans over Link to honk in reply. 

“Buckled?” he asks, and the kids shrug. 

“There’s buckles?” Ian asks, and fine. It’s okay. It’s a short drive. Rhett orders Link not to even try to get close to eighty miles an hour and he rolls his eyes. 

“Teachers, huh?” he asks the kids, making them laugh when they look like they might cry. Even at Rhett’s expense it’s all right. They could all use it. The kids go home one by one, Link idling in their driveways until they get inside. He lingers at Ian’s house last, the only stop left before home, and Ian pauses before hopping out of the car. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. M.,” he says. “I’m really sorry. I know this play was important. Is important. It’s important to me, too.” He gnaws at his lip, hands twisting up, and he shrugs. “That’s it. Have a good night, guys. See you in class, Mr. M.” He gets out of the car and Rhett was fine until this moment, fine until Ian took the time to be sincere. Link pulls out of his driveway and heads towards Rhett’s apartment and that’s it. He’s done. He feels the bubble keeping tears at bay pop and his eyes well up before he can stop them. 

“Oh, honey, no,” Link says, but it’s too late. Rhett sniffles once, twice, and he’s done. His chest tightens up, his eyes hot. He doesn’t cry, not ever, but he’s crying now. He buries his face in his hands, embarrassed beyond belief to be crying in a DeLorean with a vampire at his side. But Link drops a hand to his thigh and squeezes and instead of making him feel better it makes it worse. Silent tears give way to a wail, sharp little hiccupping sobs slipping out like rolling thunder. Tears slip through Rhett’s fingers and splash on his jeans, on the back of Link’s hand. Link presses down hard on the gas and floors it to Rhett’s place, his throat tight and his stupid heart breaking. 

“What can I do?” Link asks. And he’s survived enough heartbreak to buckle anyone’s knees. How is it he’s so lost now? Rhett tries to reply, to tell him to shut up, to leave him alone, but when he opens his mouth all that comes out is a sob. “Oh, baby,” Link says. “Oh, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He breathes sweet things to Rhett all the way home in a singsong sort of voice, like he’s trying to come up with a lullaby. By the time they make it home his head aches for crying, palms slick with tears, and Link is out of the car and at Rhett’s side before the engine stops humming. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” he breathes, and like a baby Rhett holds his arms out and lets Link carry him inside. He presses his face into Link’s chest, wetting the front of his shirt as he waits with Rhett for the elevator. He feels stupid, infantile, but knowing he’s acting like a child doesn’t make him feel any better. He’s thankful they’ve beaten Stevie home as Link finagles the door open, kicking it shut behind them with one boot. Link hums, his chest vibrating, and he sets Rhett down in his bed. He hides his face and Link doesn’t make Rhett look at him. All he does is kneel at the foot of the bed and untie Rhett’s shoes, tossing them into the corner. He doesn’t say a word as Rhett fights to get control of himself, to stop hiccupping and start acting like a normal person. It’s a lot harder than he wants it to be. Link pulls a knitted blanket from the bedroom closet and unfurls it, draping the old thing Rhett’s grandmother made around his shoulders. He leaves the room and Rhett’s left alone, a blanket that smells like incense tucked in around him as he sits curled up on himself on the edge of his bed.

And he’s pathetic. He knows he is. He just can’t stop _crying_ , nose raw and eyes itching. He’s never had the world pulled out from under him so quickly, that’s all. He should get used to it. It isn’t possible this is the last time. He can hear Link pounding around the kitchen and he doesn’t care what he’s doing. It doesn’t matter. As soon as he gets back Rhett’s going to tell him to go away. He doesn’t want him here. He wants to do what he does best and wallow, crying by himself. Big and angry sobs shake him, his throat burning, and why can’t he stop _crying_? He needs to get out of here; he needs to lock the door so Link can’t see him like this anymore.

The moment he returns to Rhett the thought goes out the window. He passes a steaming mug into Rhett’s hands, a mug full of rose scented tea, and when he takes it Link sits down beside him. He buries his face in one hand, praying Link leaves him alone without him having to ask for it. But Link is nothing like him. He doesn’t run when things get hard. He waits for Rhett to do something, say something, but gentleness is unfamiliar to Rhett and he feels more lost than anything. 

“You’re supposed to drink it, honeybee,” he says to Rhett. “It will make you feel better.” He sits way too close and Rhett hates him. He _hates_ him. When did Rhett give him permission to rummage through his pantry, pull down his mug, make him tea and wrap a blanket around him? When the hell did he give Link permission to sit here and lend comfort instead of giving up, getting angry, and getting away? 

“Link,” he croaks, and his name is the first thing Rhett’s said in an hour. 

“Yes?” Instead of replying right away Rhett taps his fingernails on his mug, his fingers clicking on the porcelain the only sound in the room. Now that he’s pulled himself together just a bit everything sounds so much quieter. So still. He knows what he should do now. But it’s not what he wants. He settles for what might be the next best thing. 

“Dunno what I would do without you.” Link goes still. He knows what it means, then, coming from him. What Rhett’s just given him. In the following silence Rhett can feel the smile on his face without having to see it. He leans in slowly and then closes the space between them, leaning on Link’s shoulder for support. Admitting such a small thing, something so insignificant, exhausts Rhett just as much as the rest of this day has. His eyes close, the mug in his hands tipping, and Link catches it before it can spill across the carpet. 

Rhett’s not asleep, not yet, but he swears to God he’s dreaming. Because Link begins to sing, his hands busy as he picks loose threads from Rhett’s blanket. 

“Sunshine,” he sings, voice low. “My only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray…” This can’t be happening. But Link tucks Rhett into bed, curling his body around him, and he kisses Rhett’s ear, his face, his hair. “You’ll never know, dear, how much I lo-“ Rhett hums to shush him and he gets the picture. 

“How much I like you, Rhett,” he breathes. “That’s what I was going to say.” For now it’s all right. For now Rhett lets it be.


	7. VII

Life goes on as normally as it can in the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving break. Another victim is found and then one more, bringing the total to five, and Rhett’s kids give him long, forlorn looks in the hallway and he wishes he could give them better. Stevie sleeps on Rhett’s sofa and misses home but Link won’t hear of her leaving. When the newly discovered bodies are confirmed to be victims of the same killer Link fights long and hard with Rhett on the pros and cons of going after them. Selfishness has given way to fear and Rhett wants him to go, to save his kids, to save the city. The change in him makes Link angry, throwing his hands up as they bicker. 

“They can kill the whole city person by person as long as they don’t touch you!” Link cries. “I don’t care! I’m not going after the only reason you’re still alive!” 

“I can hide, Link!” Rhett replies. “Why the hell not? Why can’t you stow me away somewhere until you get them? I can’t just sit here and wait for them to get one of my kids!” They fight, vicious, in Rhett’s bedroom, getting in each other’s faces and shouting. And he’s good at this part, at fighting, and Link grows frustrated before Rhett even gets started. 

“There’s nowhere I can hide you they can’t find you!” he shouts. “Jesus, Rhett, don’t you get it? We’re hunters, all of us, it’s what we do! If I take the killers down the rest of them will hunt me, hunt you to the ends of the earth!” 

“I’ll go after them myself, then! I’ll take care of it, I know how to do it! Just give me a stake and I’m gone.” Link snarls and tosses his head back to the ceiling. 

“Why don’t you see what I see?” he asks the ceiling. “Why don’t see you the reasons why I’ll do anything at all to keep you here with me?” The fight leaves his body and Rhett watches it go. He’s somber now, tweaking at his nose to avoid looking at Rhett, and okay. He can control himself. He can breathe easy; he holds his breath for a moment and lets it out. Link looks a lot closer to broken than Rhett would like and it’s his fault. Rhett’s scaring him. When he’s not looking Rhett reaches for him, for his shoulders, but he changes his mind. He reaches for Link’s hips to draw him closer but that’s a bad idea, too. In the end he lets the space between them be and he tries to think of something kind to say. 

He has nothing.

“You’re worth so much more to me than a stupid city,” Link says. 

“ _Why_?” In reply Link takes a step closer. Rhett backs away and his knees unlock against his bed, spilling him onto his mattress. Link takes his moment of weakness to pounce and lie flat on top of Rhett, hands on either side of his head. The light on the ceiling gives Link a strange florescent halo that plays through his hair. Rhett doesn’t let it distract him. Nor does he let Link’s body distract him, heavy on top of him. Not at all. 

“You’re everything,” he says. Like it’s simple. Like it’s a fact: the sky is blue, the U.S. government is hiding something in Roswell. Rhett is everything. 

“I’m not.” 

“You are. You’re the best thing I’ve had in a long time, Rhett, and not one part of me wants to let you go.” Only someone who spent years wandering in total solitude could ever truthfully say something like that. He thinks he’s found something good in Rhett. When the hell will he figure out to most people Rhett’s the biggest mistake? 

“I’ll move every day,” Rhett says, “Stevie and I. We’ll buy an RV and live in a different park and ride every day. They won’t be able to find us. And when you kill the bastards who think they can take this place from us…then we’ll come back to you. Why the hell not?”

“You make it sound easy,” Link breathes. And Rhett can’t help it. He reaches up and pushes a loose lock of hair behind Link’s ear. For a brief moment he closes his eyes at the touch but when they open they open wide. “You make it sound as if you wouldn’t be taking my heart with you.”

“Ugh.” Rhett drops the hand he holds on Link’s cheek and makes puking sounds with his mouth. “Don’t be so gross, Link. You need that heart. I’m not taking it. It’s yours.”

“Mmm,” Link hums. He looks stupidly close to an angel like this, his halo bright and his eyes glittering. When he speaks Rhett chooses to pretend he didn’t. “It’s not mine anymore. Hasn’t been in quite a while.” 

He’s the absolute worst person on the entire planet. And he’s all Rhett’s. Fantastic.

 

Link and Rhett keep bickering and Stevie spends more and more time out of the apartment, sneaking home to have some peace and quiet. And Rhett doesn’t blame her but it drives Link mad; he paces the living room until she comes home and gnaws at his fingernails until they bleed. He worries so much Rhett would be worried for him if he thought vampires could actually get ulcers. Wait. Can they? Rhett doesn’t ask. Link is not in the mood to tell. Without rehearsals to attend he spends his days lounging in the apartment waiting for Rhett to get back. He keeps an eye on the news every day waiting for another victim. They both wait for different reasons. Rhett wants something to convince Link to go after them. He wants the attacks to stop. 

Okay, so Rhett wants that, too. But more than that he wants Link calm; he’s too much to handle on a good day and when he’s nervous he’s impossible. 

“Curfew was three minutes ago,” Link says at 9:03 at night the day before Thanksgiving. 

“She has family, you know. A life outside of me, believe it or not. Maybe she went to see them.”

“But she’s not answering my texts! Why isn’t she answering my texts?” 

“You’re going to kill me with all this anxiety, Link,” Rhett tells him. “Can I get you something? A Vicodin? A drink?” 

“Come to think of it,” he says, “let’s go out. I could use a drink.” He slicks back his hair with way too much hair gel and throws on a faded denim jacket, prompting Rhett to tell him both 1955 and 1989 called and want their fashion statements back. “Fuck off,” he says. “You told me yourself you only wanted me for my body glitter. Speaking of which, have you seen my body glitter?” 

Rhett vetoes the glitter and Link sulks a bit on the walk to Chimera, but as the night air seeps into Rhett’s bones Link warms up. 

“Don’t get all jealous and pouty if someone hits on me,” Link says. “I can’t help being the most gorgeous person there.” He takes hold of Rhett’s hand and he wrestles it away, intent on spending the night playing hard to get. If he’s going to get hit on, so is Rhett. He desperately needs the distraction, someone to talk to besides Stevie and the wild, giddy man at his side. “Although,” Link adds, thoughtful, “I do quite like you when you’re jealous. It’s sexy on you.” 

“You know what’s sexy on you?” Rhett asks. “When you shut the hell up.” Link laughs and Rhett’s riled him up, excited him, and he scoops Rhett off the sidewalk and carries him in his arms. He goes limp, playing dead, much to Link’s delight. His rumbling laughter shakes Rhett as they walk. “I’m just a ghost,” Rhett sighs as he lolls in Link’s strong arms. “A shell, a husk, a whisper of a man. And I am the burden you must bear.”

“Actors,” Link laughs. 

“They’re terrible,” Rhett agrees. Link puts him down as they near the club, the thumping music from inside reaching them a block away. “I’m feeling screwdrivers,” he says. “What are you feeling?”

“Mmm,” Link says. “Bloody Marys.”

“Of course.” Rhett takes his arm and they slide into the line outside the club, Link standing still and Rhett shivering to the point of vibrating against the chill in the air. Inside the club it’s hot, people bouncing in every corner. Link drags Rhett close to gift him a chaste kiss, pulling back just to kiss him again. 

“Don’t go far, honeybee,” he coos, and like Rhett would ever. Like he won’t be staring at Link across the bar like he did the first night they met. He slaps Rhett’s ass as he walks away and he’s awful, the man Rhett…the man Rhett came with. He’s awful, totally a lost cause, and Rhett orders a screwdriver and wanders the club with the straw between his teeth. And he doesn’t miss him already, the soft and delicate scent of his skin. Rhett doesn’t miss him, the velvet in his voice. Rhett knows how to exist in a club; he knows how to dance around strangers to make them see him. He just doesn’t have much interest in doing it now. But the more he drinks the better he feels, not caring much when he can’t find Link in the crowd. He thinks of texting him, of calling him, but he should let him be. He should let him have his time away.

Still, Rhett wanders the club twice and drinks down his third screwdriver and doesn’t feel anything close to all right. He’s drunk, just a touch, a long way from how drunk he was the night Link and him met right here. He orders a fourth drink, a shot of absinthe this time, and more than anything he’s just tired. He doesn’t know when he turned into an old man but he feels like one now, tired and slow and thinking of bed. He wants to order Link to his side and have him carry him home like they’ve just been married, carrying Rhett over the threshold of his bedroom and tossing him into bed. He wants to sleep with Link curled up against his back like they do every night, like it just sort of happened. 

This is not something Rhett ever thought he’d want but he wants it now. He pays his tab and stands up from the bar where he sat, dizziness hitting him like a wave. So he’s drunker than he thought. That’s all right. Link will be easy to spot. He trips over a pair of cowboy boots in the middle of the floor and he’s far too tired and far too drunk to puzzle over the reason why they sit there. Someone catches Rhett by the elbow and he thanks them, pulling away and trying to shake some of the haze from his head. It doesn’t work at all. 

“You all right?” the stranger asks, and Rhett nods. 

“Fine,” he says. He claps them on the shoulder but misses spectacularly, the stranger catching Rhett again to keep him upright. This time when they help Rhett stand up straight they don’t let go. Instead they lean in close and mutter something he can’t hear over the music.

“What?” he asks. They press their lips to Rhett’s ear to say it again.

“I said, where’s your boyfriend now?” the stranger asks. Even as slow as Rhett is he understands. There’s a vampire in the club, one of the members of the clan, and before Rhett can draw in a breath to reply they have him by the arm. The next moment he’s blinking in the bathroom, a vampire the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome blocking the door. Rhett can talk his way out of this. He can. 

“Hi,” Rhett says, and the vampire cocks a thick eyebrow up at him.

“Hi,” he says. 

“What if someone has to use the bathroom?” Rhett asks. 

“They will have to go on the floor outside, I suppose,” he replies. 

“You know,” Rhett says, the alcohol talking maybe a bit too much for him, “I’ve never met a vampire who wasn’t white. Do you still get burnt in the sun?”

The vampire snorts. “I have never met a vampire who keeps a human as a pet,” he says. “There is a first for everything.” He’s shorter and stockier than Link but just as lithe, just as catlike in the calculated way he moves. Rhett takes one step sideways and he matches it without taking his dark eyes off Rhett’s face. 

“Huh,” Rhett says. “Well, it’s been a blast, but I have a vampire to sleep with and he’s sure as hell not going to sleep with himself…” He makes a move for the door and the vampire pushes him back. Rhett’s already dizzy and the push makes him stumble in the back wall of the bathroom, head spinning. Shit. Maybe talking isn’t the way to go. “What do you want with me?” Rhett asks. “I’m very tired and very drunk and if it’s mindless sex you’re after, I’m afraid I’m taken. Besides, I’m so drunk the lord only knows if I will be able to get it up tonight. If you don’t mind…” 

“I mind.” Rhett sighs. 

“Okay, fine. I can wait. I have all the time in the world.” Rhett crosses his arms over his chest to mimic the stance of the vampire, squaring off like he’d have a chance against him. He’s not stupid. He knows karate kicks and half nelsons won’t help against the likes of him. The longer he stares at Rhett the less he likes his chances. 

“Just in complete honesty, I was sent here to kill you,” the vampire says. “I believe you met another member of my clan? Henry?”

“Ah, yes,” Rhett says. “He was an asshole. Fucked the shit out of my apartment. Knocked a hole in my bedroom wall. If I don’t get my security deposit back because of him he’s in for a world of pain, and I mean that. It was a lot of money.”

“Did you not hear me?” the vampire asks, furrowing his brow. His deep set brown eyes all but vanish as he frowns. 

“Hear you…?” Rhett asks. “Regarding what?”

“I’m here to kill you,” he says. “You know, end your life? Snuff you out? Eradicate you?”

“Oh, no,” Rhett says. “I heard that. I just don’t think you’re going to do it. Why would you, anyway? Just because Henry doesn’t like me? Is that it? You can tell him I’m sorry if I was rude. I just wasn’t expecting a guest that night.” He’s got the vampire flabbergasted now, his mouth hanging open and his fangs flashing. Rhett might be drunk but he still has some wits about him. Just enough to hopefully keep him alive long enough for Link to come to his rescue.

“The head of my clan doesn’t like Mr. Neal trying to keep him out of this city,” the vampire says. “He doesn’t like to be kept from what he wants. He has this idea, Mr. McLaughlin, that if we were to kill you then your boyfriend would have no choice but to avenge your death. Or die trying.”

“So let me get this straight,” Rhett says, trying hard not to slur. “Your new plan is to kill me to provoke Link into attacking you so you can kill Link and get control of this city?” 

“Nailed it,” the vampire says. 

“Ah.”

“So that’s it, then. Any last words?” The vampire bears his fangs and Rhett takes a step back into the wall, the hand dryer pressing hard into the small of his back.

“Yeah,” he says. “I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.” The vampire’s eyes narrow and Rhett shakes his head. “Wait, can I try that again?”

“Sure,” the vampire says. 

“That’s sweet of you. Hey, what’s your name?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Someone tries to push the bathroom door open and the vampire holds it shut, the person bouncing off and cursing. The vampire waits for them to wander away before raising his eyebrows again at Rhett. “Well?”

“I want to include your name in my last words, that’s all,” Rhett says. The vampire rolls his eyes. It looks like a sense of humor is exclusive to Link.

“It’s Tybalt,” he says, and he frowns as Rhett chortles.

“Is that your real name? How old _are_ you?” 

“Yes,” he says, haughty, looking more than a little offended. “And I am two hundred and thirty-seven years old. A lot older than your stupid, cocky boyfriend.”

“He really is a cocky bastard, isn’t he?” Rhett asks. “He preened in front of the mirror for almost half an hour before coming here. Can you imagine?” 

“No,” Tybalt says. “I can’t. Can we get on with this, please? I’m truthfully rather hungry and want to finish someone off in this bar after I kill you.”

“Well, Jesus, man, why not just eat me? Link says my blood is delicious.” Tybalt blanches. 

“He drinks your blood?”

“Only when he’s feeling particularly enamored,” Rhett says. “Which I guess _is_ pretty often.” This vampire, much like Rhett’s, has no idea what to do with him. And he’s glad. It buys him time, the vampire’s confusion, and he tries to think of anything he can do to save himself if Link is too busy flirting to look up and find him gone. But Tybalt grins like he’s just come up with the best joke in the world. It’s all Rhett can do to hold his ground. 

“He is pretty smitten, isn’t he?” Tybalt asks. “I imagine it’s going to be quite the show when he finds you dead.”

“Yeah, it will be,” Rhett replies. “He’ll rip your smug face right off.”

“Funny,” Tybalt says. “You think he is invincible, don’t you? You think you know everything there is to know. You don’t even know all there is to know about your boyfriend.”

“He has a name, you know,” Rhett says. “I don’t think he’d appreciate being narrowed to the word _boyfriend_.” Tybalt all but rolls his eyes. He’s growing impatient with Rhett, tapping his foot on the tile floor, and he doesn’t have much time. He has to do something before his insides plaster the white bathroom walls. 

“I have no idea what the idiot sees in you,” Tybalt says. “Nor you in him. Did he ever tell you how he can laze about, hanging off you like a leech all day? Did it ever occur to you to ask?” Another body hits the bathroom door and Tybalt thumps it shut, the person crying out in pain. It isn’t Link, of course it isn’t, and the stranger is not about to rescue Rhett. Tybalt waits for silence to fall, the person telling someone the door is locked for some reason and he has to get home before he pisses his pants. As they wander away Tybalt looks at Rhett, his eyebrows arched up quizzically. “Well?” he asks. “Do you want to know?”

“He told me something about investments,” Rhett replies, stomach sinking just thinking about Link lying to him. 

Tybalt laughs. “Investments? Hardly. He was a young vampire, the youngest I have ever met I have not changed myself. He found where my clan lived and he waited for the place to be empty. The moment we left he came in and stole almost everything we had. Your boyfriend stole millions from us, Rhett. Millions. And he came here.” 

Rhett doesn’t have time to be angry about it now. His heart lingers somewhere in his intestines but it’s okay. He doesn’t have the time to dwell on something so small. He swallows hard and tries to keep his shoulders squared. 

“Huh,” Rhett says. “So he lied to me. Big deal. If he stole so much from you, why did you let him live?” 

“It was not my choice,” Tybalt smiles. “Trust me. But the head of my clan chose to let him go for the time being. Something Mr. Neal has yet to learn is vampires are patient. We can bide our time and wait to watch things unfold. And unfold they have. Now we are making our move and erasing the pest we should have erased years ago.”

“Huh,” Rhett says again. He shuffles his sneakers across the tile floor, trying his best to move too slowly to detect. But he’s against a vampire, isn’t he, and there’s no hiding anything from him. He follows Rhett with his eyes as he moves, looking more mildly disinterested than anything. And that’s what gets Rhett moving. He’s not about to be killed by someone who can’t even be bothered to play with him a bit, to make him scream, to act like he’s enjoying it at all. No way. He’s not going to go out with the guy yawning over his bleeding body. That’s not going to happen. 

“You know what?” Rhett asks. “I’m bored of this. It’s time for you to screw off.” Tybalt scoffs but Rhett can do one thing. It’s not much but it’s all he’s got. He slams his hand into the light switch behind him and plunges the bathroom into darkness. Tybalt can see him and he has no time at all, seconds if he even has that. He waits a second, two, no idea where Tybalt is or if he’s going to be on Rhett without any warning. After three breathless seconds he turns the light back on. Tybalt is in his face, fangs inches from Rhett’s skin, and as he howls in pain Rhett takes his chance and dives around him. He’s right behind Rhett, one hand clapped over his eyes, but one second is all he needs. He dashes from the bathroom and makes his way to the bar, Tybalt on his heels. Rhett can feel him breathing on the back of his neck and maybe one second isn’t enough time at all. So he gets more. He throws himself over the bar and hits the floor, coming up just in time to see Tybalt reaching for him with one hand. 

“Duck!” Rhett orders the bartender, and the poor guy dives and scarcely avoids Tybalt’s fist colliding with his face. Rhett presses the bartender to the floor and takes hold of the chain around his neck, snapping it and apologizing at the same time. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Rhett tells him, and he winds the chain around one hand. Tybalt launches over the bar and Rhett doesn’t know how every face isn’t turned towards them. These idiots are oblivious to the battle for Rhett’s life and he could be so lucky. Instead of living in blissful ignorance of monsters and fangs he faces Tybalt, stepping on the bartender’s hand and offering up another brief apology.

“You’re good!” the bartender cries under Rhett’s feet. And Tybalt attacks. Rhett’s not fast but he’s fast enough to jab the silver cross in his hand into Tybalt’s throat. It doesn’t go deep but he cries out in horror, his skin smoking as he tears away from Rhett.

“Son of a bitch!” Tybalt howls, and Rhett’s gone. Necklace in hand he uses his free hand to launch back over the bar and into the crowd, leaving Tybalt whining on the floor. He has ten seconds now, ten seconds to find Link before Tybalt catches him and tears him in two. It’s no time at all. He slams into a group of girls and sends them scattering like geese, Tybalt pushing through them far behind him. He has time. He has plenty of time; Rhett’s hurt him and he’s slow. If he struggles to keep up with Rhett he will be no match for Link. If only Rhett can _find_ him. The music is too loud for him to yell, the lights too dim for him to see, and okay. This just might be hopeless. He’s still far behind Rhett but there are too many people here who can’t help Rhett, people in his way.

“Hey, fuck off!” a man shouts as Rhett separates him from his girlfriend. 

“Watch out for the vampire!” Rhett shoots back. Moments later the man cries out again as Tybalt topples his girlfriend to the floor. There are so many faces in here, so many stupid, gaping faces as Rhett shoves past unfamiliar bodies for one he knows. If Rhett finds him, if he makes it out of here alive, Rhett’s going to _kill_ him. He’s toast, finished, done. Who the hell does he think he is, anyway, disappearing when it’s life or death? Who the fuck does he think he is, making Rhett drop to the floor to roll under a pool table? He’s going to rip Link’s head off before Tybalt even gets the chance. He’s going to-

“Rhett!” Link cries, and he slings one arm around Rhett’s neck. All the air leaves his body and he drags in a breath to tell Link,

“Heads up!” Link turns from the boy he flirts with and Christ, the kid is young enough to be one of Rhett’s students, but he doesn’t have time for this. Link catches Tybalt with his free arm and releases Rhett at the same time, a tangle of vampires and drama teacher slamming into the poor kid with eyeliner painted thick around his eyes. The four of them hit the floor in a heap and Link recovers first. He’s got Tybalt by the throat and dragged him up on his feet before the kid and Rhett have even managed to disentangle their limbs.

“He’s taken, you know,” Rhett tells the kid of Link. “He’s my husband. He gets flirty when he drinks. Did he touch you?” Link drags Tybalt towards the bathroom, Tybalt’s feet off the ground, and the kid shakes his head. “Good,” Rhett says. “Have a good night.” He helps haul the kid to his feet and he stares at Rhett, mouth hanging open. “Here’s a tip,” Rhett says. “Stay away from men in denim jackets. It’s twenty sixteen, man. Have a little self-respect.” And without waiting for a reply Rhett chases after Link. He pushes Tybalt into the bathroom and the older vampire doesn’t stand a chance. Rhett shoves his way through the door too late to see it happen. By the time he skids to a stop on the linoleum floor Link is wiping blood from a blade in his hands. Tybalt lies face down on the floor and there’s an awful lot of blood in vampires, honestly, a lot more than Rhett was expecting. He takes a step back to keep his Chucks clean and takes in the first deep breath he’s managed since he lost sight of Link. And he lets it out in a string of swears. 

“You unreliable, horrible, treacherous son of a bitch,” Rhett says, gasping for air with his hands on his knees. The bathroom door hits him in the ass and he shoves it shut, crying, “Not now!” and holding it closed with one hand. Link tries to play it cool for a moment, tries to be angry with Rhett, but his lip trembles and gives him away. He stows his knife away and throws his arms around Rhett tight enough to hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’m so, so sorry.” He squeezes the life from Rhett. If he could breathe he would tell him something mean like he hates him so he guesses his lack of air is just as well. Who needs it, anyway? Link’s boots slide through slick and scarlet blood as he holds Rhett, the pool spreading the longer they stand.

“Uh, Link,” Rhett says. “Shouldn’t we maybe get out of here?” 

“Yes,” he breathes. “Yes, right now. But first…” He pulls Rhett away to arms’ length and looks hard at him. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” Rhett says. “But you are right now. Christ, ease up with the mitts, will you?” Link offers up a weak little laugh, shaky with relief, and Rhett doesn’t tell him he feels it too. He’s never been so goddamn relieved in his life. “I was fighting for my life,” Rhett says as Link takes his hand. “And you were flirting with a boy who’s barely legal.” 

“Can we do this another time?” he asks. Link uses the hand not wrapped around Rhett’s to yank the bathroom door open and peer out into the bar. 

“And another thing,” Rhett adds. “You didn’t tell me you stole millions of dollars from the men who are now trying to kill us.” Link jerks around to face Rhett so fast he hits his head on the door. 

“He told you that?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.”

“You’re a real bastard, Link, you know that? After all this time, I can’t believe you’re still lying to me. What else are you lying about?” 

“Nothing,” he says. “Let’s go.” Rhett lets Link drag him from the bathroom by the hand, his shoes slick as they dash for the exit. People get out of their way fast and Rhett sticks his tongue out at them as they pass. Why the hell were they all in his way when it was his ass on the line instead of Link’s? They burst from the front door of Chimera and Link leads the way home.

“You’re sleeping on the floor tonight,” Rhett tells Link as he stumbles along after him. “No, the kitchen table. No, _under_ the kitchen table.”

“I think you’re being a little melodramatic,” Link replies. He doesn’t even look at Rhett to say it. He hates him. 

“I think you’re an asshole,” Rhett says. “What if he had killed me, Link? What if I hadn’t found you in time? What would you have done?” Maybe it’s because he’s drunk or maybe it’s because of the cold, but as they walk he begins to sniffle and he’s really had enough of his own shit tonight. But that doesn’t stop him from being angry. He deserves to feel a little angry, doesn’t he?

“I wouldn’t have made the bastard’s death quick, that’s for sure,” Link says. “What did he say to you?” Rhett’s breath bursts from him in tiny gasps, tiny ghosts disappearing behind them into the night as he replies.

“Besides telling me you’re a filthy liar? He told me he’s going to kill me to provoke you into attacking. And then they’re going to kill you.”

“Well, obviously he’s not going to do that now.”

“Oh, fucking _obviously_ ,” Rhett drawls in reply. He’s about two seconds from stepping on Link’s heels just to make him mad, just to annoy him. He deserves it. “And you were flirting.” Link tosses a look over his shoulder at Rhett and then farther down the street, squinting into the dark. He looks more serious than Rhett has ever seen him, face somber and flat. He turns away from Rhett.

“I wasn’t flirting,” he says. 

“Were too.”

“Was not!” Link is impatient, riled up and scared, and they reach Rhett’s building and he grabs for the front door. He slips inside and slams the door in Link’s dumbstruck face, feeling better with a sheet of glass between them.

“Admit you were flirting,” Rhett says.

“I wasn’t flirting,” he replies. “Let me in.”

“No,” Rhett says. “I don’t want you here tonight. I nearly got killed because of you. And you were _flirting_.” Link presses a hand to the glass door and fans out his fingers.

“Let me in,” he says. “Please?”

“Why would you be flirting?” Rhett asks him. His stupid chest heaves and it’s because of the cold Rhett’s nose runs. There’s no other reason for the sniffles, none at all. Link casts an anxious look down the street before taking in a long, deep breath and letting it out again. His breath fogs up the glass and he takes a moment to draw a heart with one finger, smiling at Rhett like all is forgiven. “Tell me the truth.”

“Maybe I was flirting a little,” he says, and all right. Fine.

“Have a nice life,” Rhett says, and Link cries out in pain when Rhett turns away from the door.

“Rhett,” he cries through the glass. Rhett doesn’t mean to but he turns back around.

“What?” 

And Link catches him off guard. “I love you. I love you. I freaking love you. You can’t stop me from saying it anymore. I love you, Rhett. Jesus.” He leans his forehead on the glass, exhaling like the admission lifts a thousand pounds off his shoulders. “Shit, Rhett, I can’t tell you how good it feels to say it.” 

Facing death in the nightclub bathroom has nothing on this. Link leans on the door and Rhett stands in the lobby, frozen as he waits for all of this to feel real. His limbs feel far away, his heart so lost it might as well be in another body. His lungs ache and he’s left bloody sneaker prints on the floor, his head spinning so violently he thinks he could topple at any moment. Link’s eyes are closed and Rhett takes the moment of solitude to bury his face in his hands.

“I’m just not good at this,” Link says. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings at the bar. But I love you, Rhett, and you don’t even have to love me back. You don’t even have to like me. Just let me in so I can keep you safe, please. In case you’ve forgotten, we left a dead vampire back there. They’re going to find him eventually. And the rest of the clan will know what happened. Please don’t be alone in there when that happens.”

Rhett only takes one thing from the mess of what he says. “I like you plenty,” Rhett tells him.

“Good,” he says. 

“Good,” Rhett replies. In the end Rhett lets him in. The moment he’s inside he kisses Rhett, a kiss that says a lot of things he doesn’t want to say back, but that’s all right. For now he tastes like a vodka cranberry and Rhett kisses him back, his lips soft and his hands like ice on Rhett’s face. They don’t break the kiss until they’re at Rhett’s door, Link slipping one hand into the pocket of Rhett’s jeans for his keys. The door creaks open and Link catches Rhett back up in his arms the moment it closes behind them. Stevie is home, snoring on the sofa, and Link claps a hand over Rhett’s mouth as he carries Rhett to bed. Like he’s the loud one. Like he’s the one with no self-control. Like he is the one who says stupid things like _I love you_ and means them. 

“You’re the worst,” Rhett tells Link as he tears Rhett’s clothes off him, one hand already cupping Rhett through his jeans.

“I know,” he says. “I know. But…”

“You’re mine.” 

“Yes.” And for the moment Rhett can let things be. He can forget the blood he left in the lobby and the silver necklace he jabbed into the throat of a vampire. He doesn’t care. Let them come. Link’s mouth is too warm and too sinful to leave room for anything else in Rhett’s head. He’s drunk and he’s alive and he’s loved whether he likes it or not. It’s fine. It’s all just fine. 

 

In the morning Link helps Rhett scrub the blood off the lobby floor before the landlord sees, the two of them on their hands and knees for an hour. Rhett follows the path of last night’s drunken footsteps and winds up back at his door with a blood soaked sponge in one hand.

“Is that all of it?” Rhett asks. Link hums and nods in reply and they rush to rinse the blood from their kitchen sponges before Stevie wakes up and sees. Rhett’s going to tell her. There’s no way he can keep the attack from her. But he’s scared for her reaction, scared to see the horror he’s grown accustomed to on her face. He’s scared to see her scared, to see her worried and hurt. 

He just wants this to be over. 

He yawns as he makes a terrible Thanksgiving breakfast, Link winding his arms around Rhett’s middle and swaying with him while he flips pancakes. He hums a familiar song in Rhett’s ear and he tries to shake him off before he spills batter all over the floor. 

“What are you doing?” Rhett asks when he doesn’t let go.

“I’m loving you,” he replies, lowering his chin to Rhett’s bare shoulder. 

“Ugh. Don’t say that.”

“I’m enjoying this moment,” he replies. “I dunno how many I have left before they come for me and cut my head off with a silver scythe or something equally maniacal.” 

“Don’t day that, either. Pass the chocolate chips, would you?” Link presses the bag of chocolate chips into Rhett’s hand and he pours them into what’s left of the batter. 

“What should I say, then?” he asks. He presses his lips to Rhett’s shoulder, his hands sliding down his hips to grip his thighs, and Rhett knows the song he hums but can’t place it. 

“It’s Thanksgiving,” Rhett says. “Tell me something you’re thankful for.” 

“I’m thankful I’m about to eat chocolate chip pancakes,” Link replies. 

“You eat?” he asks, momentarily forgetting the many asinine rules of vampirism. 

“I can if I want to. And it’s Thanksgiving. So I want to.” 

“You’ll have to fight Stevie for the chocolate chip ones, babe.” Link tightens his hold on Rhett just a touch and he doesn’t mention it. He shouldn’t have called him that. But he’s tired, far too tired to deal with anything harder than working a spatula, and Link doesn’t seem to mind he’s near comatose. He sways his hips with Rhett in front of the stove, in pajama bottoms with his body pressed flush against Rhett’s, and he seems perfectly content. Maybe Rhett’s just projecting; for the moment he’s too spent to feel anything but sleepy and pleased and warm. And Link hums, soft and sweet, like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. “What are you singing?” Rhett asks. Link chuckles with his lips on Rhett’s skin. 

“Want me to sing it to you?” he asks. “It’s just the song I sing in my head every time I see you.”

“Oh, God,” Rhett groans. “Forget it.” He’s about to go all mushy on Rhett and he’s going to sing it whether he likes it or not. Rhett goes quiet in his arms and waits for him to get on with it. And he does.

“Earth angel,” he sings, voice husky and warm, “will you be mine? My darling dear, love you all the time.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Rhett says, and he ducks under Link’s arm and dances away from the stove. He stands stunned for a moment before the empty skillet on the stovetop and then he turns to Rhett, a grin spreading across his face. 

“Did I scare you?”

“No.” Link crosses his arms across his bare chest and raises his eyebrows. “Okay, so maybe a little. So what?”

“So nothing,” Link says. They square off across the kitchen and Link opens his mouth to speak when Stevie stumbles, yawning, into the room. 

“Morning,” she sighs as she tosses her braid over her shoulder and plunks at the table. 

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Link says, and Stevie’s tired morning frown eases up when he plants a kiss on the top of her head. 

“Back at you,” she replies. Link sits beside her and Rhett spends the next few minutes finishing breakfast, pouring syrup into a gravy boat and passing out plates of pancakes. Stevie perks up as she eats and Link has her smiling by the time she scoops the last of the syrup off her plate with one finger. “Are you two doing anything today?” she asks. “I’m going to my mother’s and you’re more than welcome to come.” Link frowns.

“Where were you yesterday if not with family?” he asks. Rhett punches him under the table; Stevie deserves time away from them and there’s no reason she should have to explain herself. But Stevie surprises Rhett. She gives him an answer. She would have told him to back off but she’s gentler with Link. Rhett can’t even muster up enough energy to get mad about the injustice. 

“I was at a bar,” she says. “Trying to drown my sorrows in gin and tonics.”

“What sorrows?” Link asks. He doesn’t even react to Rhett’s next punch. He stabs his pancakes with his fork and shovels melted chocolate into his mouth, chewing like a cow. Rhett’s not too tired to smile at his own plate as he looks away. It’s just another thing Rhett didn’t know about him- he looks like an idiot when he chews. Rhett can’t help but feel just a little bit endeared as he speaks to Stevie, Rhett’s best friend complaining about the anxiety plaguing her. 

“I just worry about the kids,” she says. “And Rhett. All the time. I just want you to be safe. I’m so tired, you know?” Link glances at Rhett and he shakes his head no. Now is not the time. But Link ignores him and the affection Rhett let himself feel vanishes as fast as it came on. His ability to make Rhett’s affections waver with so few words is nothing short of baffling. 

“We got attacked last night,” Link blurts, and it’s all downhill from there. Stevie chokes on nothing and gulps down water, eyes wet and wide as Link spills the story of last night. “And we just kind of ran back here and cleaned up the blood and Rhett didn’t want to tell you.”

“Rhett!” Stevie cries, and he drops his head to the table so hard he shakes it. He listens to the rest of the conversation with a headache pounding between his eyes.

“So it’s safe to assume we’re going to keep getting visits,” Link says. “If I thought you would listen to me I’d suggest leaving town.”

“We can’t leave the kids unprotected,” Stevie says right away. Rhett nods in agreement against the cool wood of the table. Link goes on about the knife he bought, the silver one he used to kill Tybalt in the bathroom, and he dashes from the table and comes back quick. He shakes Rhett until he looks up. 

“I’m going to give one to each of you,” he says. He pushes a knife towards Rhett, a small blade with a wood handle carved with roses up the sides. The blade shines in the meager light in the room and Rhett doesn’t really want to touch it but Stevie’s already admiring hers. So Rhett scoops his up and peers at it, Link watching him turn it over in his hands. “Don’t prick yourself,” he says. “You’ll bleed a lot. It’s the sharpest one I could get.” Even as he says it Rhett presses a finger to the point and proves him right. 

“Rhett!” Stevie cries for the second time today, pulling her plate closer to her as blood splashes on the table. Rhett swears and Link swears louder, taking hold of Rhett’s hand with both his own and pressing a napkin to his finger. 

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” he chastises. “It’s going to get you killed one of these days.”

“Good,” Rhett growls, tired and angry and fed up. “Then I won’t have to listen to you anymore.” 

“Rhett, stop being so annoying,” Stevie says. 

“Stop telling me what to do. I’m not even being half as annoying as I can be.”

“Ugh.” Stevie rises, throwing her plate a little too forcefully into the sink, scooping up Rhett’s and Link’s and doing the same. Rhett’s surprised when none of them shatter. “The thing I’m most excited about isn’t even knowing we’re safe. I just can’t wait to get some space from you.” She doesn’t mean that and Rhett doesn’t let it sting but even so he wishes she wouldn’t say it. He can’t say he blames her, though, even when she stomps to the living room and turns the TV on, the parade so loud Rhett can’t even hear Link speaking beside him.

“What?” he asks. Link shouts to be heard. 

“I said I should just give in and let them kill me!” Link cries. “Just to end this!” He cocks an eyebrow up at Rhett, a question, and he shakes his head. 

“You’re an idiot!” Rhett replies. “I’m not letting you die for me!”

“That’s sweet!” Link replies. 

“Shut up!” To quiet him Rhett closes the distance between them and plants a soft kiss on his lips, cutting him off just as he tries to say something back. He smiles into the kiss and at least they have this. They have tiny moments even as Stevie throws a fit; they have tiny moments even as they clean blood from tile and even as they bicker about young men in bars. Rhett just doesn’t want the moments to grow farther apart. It’s all he can hope for, he guesses, and for this moment he lets everything else go. He smiles back and kisses him again. Just because he can. He supposes he understands the way Link holds him, then, the way he wants to hold onto the time they have when they have it.

When did he turn Rhett into this awful, mushy puddle of a man? 

When did he decide he doesn’t mind so much anymore? 

Rhett kisses him and pulls back and kisses him again.

 

It’s not easy being angry and scared and wound up all the time and Rhett watches Stevie calm down and warm up as Christmas gets closer. She starts to smile at him again in the hallways at school and they’re even eating lunch together again by the time Christmas is two weeks away. He lives with her and sees her every day whether she likes it or not but he found himself missing her anyway. Seeing her happy with Rhett makes him miss her a little less. 

They never hear of Tybalt’s death on the news. Link tells him he has the feeling the clan made a point to cover it up. He doesn’t know the reason and he tells Rhett he has no idea why anyone is yet to come for them. But he’s not complaining. Rhett’s play is supposed to be in two weeks and his students surprise him. He finds out by accident as they whisper about it in the hall; they have been meeting up at Robbie’s house to keep up rehearsals, just in case. Rhett dashes the other way as Adam and Ian pass by him, his heart swelling to rise up in his throat. It hurts too much to think about, his kids sneaking to Robbie’s house to rehearse with him when they can’t do it here. The thought that they still have hope the play will go on sends Rhett over the edge. He hides in the staff bathroom during lunch, curled up in a stall with his face in his hands. What he really wants is a quick cry but there’s a math teacher in here singing the Pythagorean Theorem to himself as he plays Sudoku in the next stall over. So Rhett pulls himself together and finds Stevie in her room and throws himself into her arms.

“Oh, Stevie” he sighs, letting her carry his weight for a bit. She staggers but doesn’t let him go.

“What’s wrong?” she chokes. 

“My kids are doing rehearsals,” he all but wails. “At Robbie’s house. Without me. Because they hope by some miracle the play will still happen. Oh, Stevie, what am I going to do?” 

“First,” she gasps, “you’re going to get off me. And then we’re going to try and think this through.”

“What is there to think through?” Rhett asks. He lets go of Stevie and wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. He’s not close to crying or anything, he’s really not, but his eyes are wet and he doesn’t want Stevie to see. 

“There hasn’t been another victim in a while,” Stevie says. 

“Because all the potential snacks are locked indoors, Stevie.”

“But what if we let them keep having rehearsals at Robbie’s house? You know we couldn’t stop them even if we tried. And then, at the last second, we surprise them and let them have their play? You and I and Link can finish up the sets and the costumes and the lights and the music and we can have it all ready in time! Oh, Rhett, why not?” She gets more and more excited as she speaks, balling her hands into fists and pressing them to her mouth. Her eyes shine as she dances on the spot on her tiptoes, waiting for Rhett to give her an answer. Rhett can’t say no to her. But he has to, doesn’t he? This won’t work. There’s no way. There’s no time. They can’t cram six weeks’ worth of work into two; they’d have to work all night every night. They’d have to devote all their time to it and give everything they have. They wouldn’t be able to spare a moment, not for two whole weeks, weeks they should be spending getting ready for Christmas. They can’t do this. There’s no time. 

But Rhett opens his mouth and what comes out is, “Oh, _Stevie_. I think we could actually pull this off.” And Stevie screams. 

“This is going to happen!” she shrieks. “I’ll go out today right after school and buy the rest of the supplies for the set! I’ll meet you here and we can build them! We have just enough time, Rhett. Oh, I can’t believe your play is going to happen!”

“Our play,” he mutters, and the glee in her face is worth all the shit he’s gone through trying to get this play to happen. He would go through twice as much to see this amount of joy. Stevie pulls him into a hug and he lifts her off her feet, spinning her so fast her skirt fans out. 

“Don’t tell the kids!” she says as soon as he puts her down. “Don’t even breathe in their direction if you can help it! You’re shit at keeping secrets!” 

“I won’t tell,” Rhett promises.

“Oh, Rhett, I could kiss you!”

“Please don’t.” Stevie laughs, joy lighting up her face. 

“Go tell Link,” she says. “Call him right now and tell him and tell him to get his ass here right after school. We have so much work to do!” She all but shoves Rhett out the door and tells him to get on the phone. “I have to get ready for my next class or I would help you right now!” she says. “Just get out of here and call him! He’s going to be so happy!”

“It’s nice to have you back,” Rhett tells her right before she closes her door in his face. She leans in and presses a wet kiss to his cheek, laughing and swiping across his face when she gets pink lip gloss on him.

“See you right after school,” she says, and he nods.

“See you then.” She squeals in joy one more time before closing her door and leaving Rhett alone in the hall. He feels like squealing a bit himself. The play is going to happen. His kids came through for him without the promise of anything in return. He’s not going to cry. Not in the middle of the hall, anyway. But when he calls Link to tell him the news he breaks down, pressing one hand to his eyes to try and keep tears back. It doesn’t help much. 

“Link,” Rhett cries, and he asks what’s wrong, alarmed. “Oh, Link, it’s nothing bad.”

“Oh,” he says. “What is it? Don’t scare me like that, Rhett. I’ve got my shoes on already, ready to come dashing to your rescue.” Rhett apologizes, laughing so hard he bursts the dam keeping tears at bay. 

“I’m sorry,” Rhett says. “Link, my play is back on.” For a beat he’s quiet. And when his reaction comes it’s just the same as Stevie’s. He cheers. Tears splash down Rhett’s cheeks and he’s never been a crier, not ever, but he’s cried more this past school year than he’s cried in years. Link doesn’t seem to mind. He cheers for Rhett and tells him how happy he is for him; he only hangs up when Link tells Rhett he loves him. He shoves his phone away and gets ready for his class, sniffling all the way up until the moment they step into his room.

His play is going to happen and he feels so happy he could burst with it. It’s a nice feeling and one he has no intention of letting slip away. 

 

Rhett’s kids continue to skulk around like they think they’re being sneaky and Rhett does the same. Link, Stevie, and Rhett work in the auditorium every day from the time school lets out to the time curfew begins, painting the sets and practicing the lights and sound effects. They only blow a fuse once in the following week and only have to make thirteen trips back to the hardware store for more wood and paint and nails. Stevie almost nails Link through the ear with the gun and he takes it from her as kindly as he can, telling her she should probably try the less deadly staple gun instead. At least if she staples someone through the finger it won’t be a mortal wound. 

“I’m not always so clumsy,” she assures Link, but once she’s not looking Rhett mouths to him that she is. He bites down hard on his lip to stifle laughter and Rhett wishes he didn’t look so damn good. He has white paint smeared across one cheek and pink paint in his hair, his tongue between his teeth as he concentrates on nailing pieces of castle together. He’s distracting Rhett to say the least. It’s hard to work with him so close, so aware of how nicely his T-shirt hugs the muscles in his chest. He knows how good he looks and it’s killing Rhett.

Rhett’s supposed to be angry at him for something but he can’t remember what. 

Link and Rhett haul the castle up together, hands working in tandem. They stand back to admire the final product, the background to the whole play, and for a last minute effort by two hapless carpenters it doesn’t look half bad. Link wipes at his sweaty forehead and gets another smear of paint on his face. But it looks sweeter on him than it does ridiculous so Rhett doesn’t tell him. 

What is _wrong_ with him? 

With a week to go before the play all they have left to do is finish running through the cues. Rhett eavesdrops on the kids as much as he can, hiding in the hallway when they hide with their heads together in the library. They are almost ready, too. Robbie and Amelia still get tangled up while they practice their big dance but Robbie is solemn as he promises to get it down. Ian suggests there’s not much of a point in this whole exercise but Heather scolds him and tells him, “Mr. McLaughlin hasn’t ever let us down before, Ian. Quit being such a baby and get your cues right.” 

Rhett’s so proud of them he could explode with it. It takes every bit of willpower he has to keep from leaping out of hiding and throwing his arms around them all at once. But it’s still a secret for one more week, and seven days he can handle. Still, more often than not he has to run away with a hand over his mouth when he hears them talking. When he sees his cast in class it’s hard to believe they don’t know something’s up; they are usually world class experts on how to read a teacher. But no one says anything to Rhett and he treats them extra kindly, even forgiving Adam when he forgets the entire second half of his midterm soliloquy. He has a lot on his plate, after all, and it’s the least Rhett can do for what he’s doing for him.

Rhett’s so busy with school and with the play he almost forgets Christmas; he sends a card off to his parents and drags Link to the mall to help pick something for Stevie. He’ll have to take Stevie out later to get something for Link but he’s scared out of his mind for that. What would he even buy a vampire, anyway? A cape? Gaudy jewelry? A casket? He’s being ridiculous but he frets over what he’s going to do as he and Link shop for Stevie.

“How does she feel about Coach?” Link asks. “Or do you think she might be more into Louis Vuitton?” 

“She doesn’t want a thousand dollar purse from you,” Rhett tells him, swatting his hand away from the purses perched on shelves against the wall of the store. Rhett remembers what he’s angry about as Link fails to check the price tags on anything. He stole millions from an evil clan of vampires like it was nothing and then he lied to Rhett about it. How could he forget? He guesses it has something to do with how Link plays innocent with him and gives him wide eyes to make him lose his train of thought. He does it a lot, so much Rhett doubts he even means to. But he scatters his brain, Link does, and only when Rhett checks the tag of the bag Link’s holding does it come back to him.

“Why don’t we get her a joint gift, you filthy liar?” Rhett asks, and Link’s mouth drops open in shock as Rhett takes the seven hundred dollar bag from his hands and returns it to the shelf. 

“Are you still mad at me, then?” he asks, one eyebrow cocked up. 

“Very,” Rhett replies. “You lied to me.” He walks away from the purses and gives Link the choice to either get left behind or chase after him. He chooses the latter. 

“How can I make it up to you?” he asks. 

“Never lie to me again,” Rhett replies. Link follows him into a chocolate shop and he looks at the display case instead of at Link.

“Done,” he replies. 

“Return their millions so they don’t have a grudge against you anymore?” Rhett chances a glance at Link to find him frowning.

“As a clan they have billions,” Link says. “You make it sound like I left them destitute. Far from it. They don’t miss the money at all. Besides, if I thought that’s what they actually wanted I _would_ return it. But it’s not.” 

“Mhm,” Rhett grumbles. He asks the sole employee in the store what would be a good Christmas gift for his best friend in the world and she suggests a bouquet of chocolate covered strawberries. “Yeah, can I get that?” Rhett asks. He should do his best to avoid Link’s stolen money but he has no cash on him and he holds out his hand for Link’s wallet. With the tiniest hint of a smirk playing on his lips, the kind that says _I got you_ , Link passes his credit card into Rhett’s hand. 

“Might I suggest a sugar daddy?” Rhett asks the girl behind the counter as she builds Stevie’s bouquet. He interrupts her telling him how to best freeze it to keep it for Christmas and her eyes go wide. “In this day and age there’s no reason for the stigma behind it. Wouldn’t you agree, Daddy?” Rhett asks Link, and the girl goes white. Link needs no prompting to reply,

“Yes, baby,” as he takes his credit card back from the shell-shocked girl. She’s so floored she doesn’t even finish her instructions, putting the bouquet of strawberries together and slipping it into a cellophane bag. She ties it with a bow and tells them weakly to have a nice day. Link gives Rhett’s ass a smack on the way out the door and the girl wavers like she might melt into the floor. The moment they’re out of the store they break down laughing; Rhett laughs so hard he almost drops his bouquet and Link has to snatch it out of midair. 

“You’re a menace,” Link tells him. Rhett tells him he knows. But so is Link. As they wander the mall Rhett asks him where the clan got all the billions he claims they have. “I’m honestly not sure,” he says. “It’s probably just because they’ve been around a long time. Hundreds and hundreds of years of savings between them. Plus, immortality teaches lessons in patterns. They can predict, in a way, where to invest their money. I guess that’s how I came up with my story,” he shrugs. “They also tend to hold onto things and wait for them to be worth millions. I knew a vampire who hid a Picasso for over one hundred and fifty years. He sold it for millions at an auction a few years ago. It’s easy once you get the hang of it.”

“You say it like you know,” Rhett tells him, and he rolls his big blue eyes.

“I’ll learn,” he says. “I just needed a push, you see. I doubt they’re even _angry_ I stole from them. Just angry I managed it right under their noses. They tend to underestimate new blood.”

“And that’s you,” Rhett says. His bouquet gets too heavy and he passes it off to Link as they wind their way through the Christmas crowds. 

“Yes,” he says. “I’ll be new blood for the next hundred years. Maybe even the next two hundred.”

“And I’ll be dead thirty times over.” Link gives him a sharp look. 

“Don’t talk like that.”

“But I will be.”

“And I don’t want to think about it.”

“You should prepare yourself to lose me,” Rhett says, annoying him just because Link lied to him and Rhett has the right to get even. “I’ll be gone in a blink of an eye.”

“Rhett McLaughlin, you stop that right now.”

“Make me.”

“I will,” he says. “Later. When I have you by the back of your neck, on your hands and knees.”

“Hmm,” Rhett hums. “Doesn’t sound half bad.” Link laughs, tossing his head back to the ceiling. Rhett trips on the escalator for staring at him and he’s so joyful he doesn’t even laugh at Rhett; all he does is steady him with a hand on him elbow and wait for Rhett to find his feet. He looks at Rhett like he sees so much and he thinks _Rhett’s_ the menace.

In the end he talks Link out of a fifteen hundred dollar pair of pink diamond earrings and into a more modest pair of sapphires for Stevie. 

“She’ll love them,” Rhett assures him as he frets, worried they won’t be enough. “All we have to do now is get her a card.” 

“One card?” he asks. He balances Rhett’s strawberries in the crook of one arm so he can hold Rhett’s hand and rhythmically, like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, Link squeezes his fingers. 

“Yeah,” Rhett says. “We can both sign it.” Link smiles, coy, and after a beat he nods.

“I’d like that,” he says. Like Rhett’s given him the key to the goddamn secrets of the universe. Yeah. And Rhett’s the menace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more than halfway done now! thank you, thank you for all the love and kind words so far. <3


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, that second tag there? Right beside 'graphic depictions of violence'? Yeah. I'm sorry in advance.

With four days left to go before the play Stevie and Rhett leave Link at an office supply store, printing off programs and posters. They put an ad out for it in the local paper at the last second and they’re going to put the posters up all around the school tomorrow morning before the kids come in. And the secret will be out. Rhett practically shakes with excitement as he kisses Link goodbye at the store, Rhett and Stevie leaving to go holiday shopping together. She has family to buy for and just like every year she invites Rhett to join her for the holidays. Just like every year he tells her he’d rather spend the holiday alone, feeling sorry for himself. But this year he won’t be alone. It doesn’t change anything; he’ll still be sitting at home feeling sorry for himself. He’ll just have Link at his side. Rhett hopes he likes drinking champagne and watching Christmas movies all night.

“Do you think I should get my mom another scarf?” Stevie asks as she fiddles with the fabric of a silk scarf. “She lost the last one I gave her and I don’t know if she really lost it or if she hated it.”

“You should get her a puppy instead,” Rhett replies. They stopped by the pet store in the mall and Stevie and Rhett mooned over a golden retriever in the window. But Stevie tells him if he’s not going to be helpful he might as well go back to the office supply store and bother Link instead. “I’ll be good,” Rhett says, and she softens as he links his arm through hers. She always does this, leaving her shopping for the last minute, and she always drives herself crazy. Lucky for her she has Rhett.

“Wait, is your mom the one who collects salt shakers?” he asks.

“No, you idiot, that’s my grandma. Speaking of which, where are the salt shakers?” Shopping with Stevie is far more exhausting than shopping with Link. By the time Stevie starts hunting for a gift for him Rhett’s arms are laden down with bags for her family. 

“What are you getting me?” Rhett asks as he follows her through a clothing store.

“I already got you your present,” she says. “Wrapped it days ago. It’s been under my bed all week. Link and I left during lunch one day. I even helped him pick out your present.”

“Huh,” Rhett says. He tries to sound disinterested but if Link was with her he has no idea what to expect. “What did he get me?”

“I’m not telling,” she says. “Don’t ask again.” 

“What did he get me?” he asks fifteen more times as they shop, Stevie clueless as to what to get Link, and he tells her to go for a nice card and call it a day. 

“No can do,” she says. “We couldn’t have done this play without him, you know. We might not even be alive without him.” Rhett reminds her they probably wouldn’t have been in danger without him in the first place but she brushes Rhett off with a smack on his arm. “I have to get something good,” she says. “He deserves it.” 

“I hope you said the same about me,” Rhett teases, and she tells him she absolutely did not. “You’re the worst best friend ever,” he says.

“But you wouldn’t have anyone else,” she replies. He tells her she’s right. In the end Stevie finds a watch, one with a digital face that tells the time of sunrise and sunset. She gets it gift wrapped in the store and tells Rhett she’s finally done, taking some bags off his hands. “What are you going to get him?” Stevie asks, and he tells her he has no idea. He’s never had less of an idea in his entire life. There are strangers he’d feel more prepared to shop for than Link.

It’s only when they pass by a candle shop that an idea begins to form. And it’s the scariest thought he’s had in a long time, so scary he has to sit down and bury his face in his hands and wait for the lightheadedness to pass. Stevie rubs at his back and asks what’s wrong and he doesn’t know how to tell her without his throat closing up. He takes a long breath to try and pull himself together before leading Stevie into the candle shop and picking out a red one scented like roses. Next, too excited and nervous to move slowly, he drags Stevie by the hand to the chocolate shop. He ignores Stevie asking him why the girl turned white when she saw him and he orders a box of liquor filled chocolates and drops them into the bag with his candle. 

“Do I even want to know what you’re planning?” Stevie pants behind Rhett, her hand sweaty in his. It’s only when they skid to a stop in front of Hallmark that her eyes go wide. “Oh, Rhett, what…?” She trails off as he makes his way into the store, pushing to the back where the cards wait in perfect lines. He spends the next half hour completely breathless, reading card after card, and why is it they don’t make cards for men with undead boyfriends? He’s going to have to write in to the company about the injustice but at the moment he doesn’t have the time. 

After reading and tossing aside well over a hundred cards, Stevie frantic as she stuffs them back where they belong, Rhett gives up and picks one with a blank inside. He’ll just have to make it up as he goes along. That’s fine. What else is new? He pays for the card and doesn’t catch his breath until they sit in Stevie’s car, the sun beating down on it heating it up despite the cold outside. 

“I’m going to do it,” Rhett says, and Stevie has an idea but she asks what he means anyway. “That’s his present, Stevie. That’s his freaking present. I’m going to sit him down and I’m going to tell him…shit.”

“No,” Stevie says, disbelief spreading across her face. 

“Yes,” 

“Oh, Rhett, I…”

"I’m gonna do it, Stevie. I’m gonna tell him I love him.” He chokes on the last two words but Stevie gets the picture. She throws her arms around Rhett, the gearshift stabbing him in the stomach, and she tells him she’s proud of him.

“I can’t believe my tiny, sad little Rhett is growing up,” she crows, pulling back just to squeeze his face between her hands. 

“Not really,” he says. “I might chicken out.” He feels sick at thought of going through with it, sick enough to throw up or pass out or both. 

“You won’t,” she says. “I’ll make sure you do it. Oh, Rhett, you’ll be so relieved once you finally say it. Jesus, when was the last time you even said that to someone?” He reminds her he says it to her all the time and she tells him it doesn’t count. She pinches at his cheeks and tells him this is going to be the best Christmas in a long time. 

“If you insist,” he grumbles, and she’s so ecstatic she doesn’t even roll her eyes at him for doing so. They drive back to pick up Link in peaceful quiet and Stevie somehow manages to keep from spilling when they greet him. It’s going to be a long week until Christmas. But he thinks Stevie might be onto something. It shouldn’t be a half bad one. 

 

Once the posters go up advertising the play there’s no hiding it anymore. Amelia gets to Rhett first, slamming her tiny body into him so hard she almost topples him in the middle of the hall. 

“I knew it!” she cries, clinging to Rhett’s chest. “I knew you would come through for us, Mr. McLaughlin, I just knew it!” She has tears in her eyes she tries to wipe away and if she cries Rhett’s going to cry so he does his best to calm her down. 

“Thank you for having faith in me, Amelia,” he says, and he peels her gingerly off his chest. “I could say the same for all of you guys.”

“Did you know?” she asks. “That we were still rehearsing?”

“I knew,” Rhett tells her. She apologizes a few times, cheeks pink, before she realizes he’s not angry. He’s not going to chastise her or yell. More likely than not he looks happier than he has looked in weeks. Amelia wipes at her cheeks and sniffles with Rhett in the hall, the two of them discussing with shaky voices how best to get the word out the play will go on. Before Rhett manages to send her on her way Adam and Ian tackle him, the two of them buckling his knees as they trap him in a bear hug.

“Mr. M.!” they shout, crashing with Rhett into the wall from the force of their hug. Their heads crash together but they don’t seem to mind. 

“Mr. M., thank you!” Ian cries. 

“We’re going to be amazing, I promise!” Adam says. Amelia watches on, dancing up and down on the spot with her hands on her wet cheeks. And they must be a sight, four wet eyed people blocking up the hall, but that’s all right by Rhett. It’s a sight he’s grateful to see. Through the rest of the day he buckles under hug after hug, getting his cheek scratched up by Heather’s fingernails and his head smacked against Manny’s. But it’s not a high price to pay to see his kids come alive, dashing through the tinsel lined halls to spread the word. 

He doesn’t decide he’s without a doubt made the right decision until Robbie steps up to him in the hall. He has his hands behind his back when he greets Rhett but they aren’t there for long. He steps closer, eyes downcast, and he seems just as surprised as Rhett feels when he wraps his arms around Rhett’s neck. 

“Thank you, Mr. M.,” he says, his voice muffled by the collar of Rhett’s shirt. “We’re going to make you so proud.” He pulls away before Rhett has time to hug him back and he messes with his hair, hiding his eyes from Rhett. He think it would be pushing it to tell them they already have, so he doesn’t. Instead Rhett tells him he’s going to be amazing and he lets him lope away, head down, kicking at the tile floor with his sneakers. And Rhett figures if he’s gotten to Robbie there’s nothing he can’t do, the worry he’s felt the past few weeks diminishing by the second. He’s done something good. He’s done something that has made people happy.

Stevie and her art students unfurl a massive banner at the front entrance of the school and tie it above the door. Rhett’s kids get the students who work the morning news to announce the play and he can’t stop grinning no matter how hard he tries. His cheeks hurt by the end of the day and when Link meets Stevie and Rhett in the auditorium after school he grins at Rhett’s happiness and Rhett lifts him off his feet.

“There he is!” Link cries, Rhett spinning around as Link wraps his legs around Rhett’s middle. They sway in the aisle of the auditorium and Link calls Rhett his hero, the man who made all this possible, and he buries his face in the crook of Rhett’s neck and tells him he might have helped a little, too. 

“And me!” Stevie cries.

“And you!” Link replies. Rhett tries to put Link down and he clings to him, Rhett watching Stevie roll her eyes at him behind Link’s back. There is something Rhett is finally going to tell him and all at once a week feels like a hundred years. He sets Link down on the stage and there’s only three days left to get ready, to finish everything, and it’s no time at all. Rhett told his kids to keep the rehearsals at Robbie’s house, a safe place closer to their homes, and at first they were reluctant. They want to work with Rhett, with the stage, but he wants them to be safe. He tells them there’s no play if one of them goes missing and that shuts them up fast; they agree to finish up at Robbie’s and unveil the final product opening night. Rhett might have signed up for a disaster but at least he’s having fun walking right into it. 

 

By some miracle they sell enough tickets to the play to almost sell out the place. Rhett’s kids are finally back onstage, the curtains drawn as they get into their costumes for the first time in over a month. It feels good to see Stevie pulling on the tie to Amelia’s dress again, and to see Link helping Robbie into his big fuzzy Beast hands. Link tucks tufts of fur up Robbie’s sleeve and Amelia tells Stevie she can do the bow up tighter as it feels a little loose. Stevie smiles as she does it up again. Beauty and the Beast goes on in just under an hour and Rhett can’t stop shaking. Already the seats are filling, parents and friends and relatives with no qualms about being out after curfew just to see Rhett’s play. But one look backstage tells him it’s not his play anymore. It’s Stevie’s and Link’s as much as it belongs to all the kids, Rhett’s kids who didn’t for one second give up on this play. 

Rhett might have to take a breather and cry for a minute out in the lobby before the play begins.

“Mr. McLaughlin, do you need a Xanax?” Ian asks. “I can get you a Xanax.”

“I’m fine!” Rhett chokes, sounding not fine at all, but Ian shrugs and goes back to fighting with the half melted white candles he wears on gloves slipped over his hands. Adam prances around in his full Gaston getup, getting the strut down right, and his entourage of swooning ladies pretend to faint right on cue when he walks by. Maybe this will be okay. The kids are confident, brimming with it, and the crowd sounds excited on the other side of the curtain. Maybe Rhett doesn’t need to go breathe into a paper bag. Maybe he’ll survive this. He locks eyes with Link and he grins from ear to ear, banging into Manny for smiling at Rhett. They meet in the center of the room backstage and Rhett dips his head to brush his lips at Link’s cheek, smiling into his skin. 

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Nope,” Rhett replies. Link leans up to kiss Rhett’s face and he repeats the question. “It’s going to take a lot more than a peck on the cheek to calm my nerves, Link,” he says.

“Hmm,” he says. “I can arrange for a little something more in the backseat of my car...”

“I’m not getting off in a DeLorean,” Rhett says, pushing him back with a firm hand on his chest. Link gasps, one hand pressing over his heart.

“I would never suggest such a thing!” he replies, feigning shock. “I was merely suggesting we sit in the car and play cards to calm you down! Your mind is in the gutter, Rhett, I tell you.”

“Shut up,” Rhett says, and he does. Manny hops across the stage to practice her walk for Chip, following Heather around as she paces. She holds her cap on her head and when she lets go it falls off in her hand, Heather dashing to Stevie to ask for help. 

“I think I broke it!” she cries. “What should I do?”

“Oh, Heather, how did you manage to break it in _half_?” Stevie asks. She takes the porcelain and cloth cap in her hands and presses the broken pieces together, looking up at Rhett like there’s anything he can do to help. “You know what?” she says, her mind changing fast. “We have time. I’m gonna run to the hardware store for superglue. I’ll be back just in time for you to go on.”

“Thank you!” Heather squeaks as Stevie heads for her coat. “I’m sorry!”

“Could be worse!” Stevie replies. The hardware store is close, right down the street, close enough to walk. She won't be gone long; she can make the walk there and back in ten minutes. But Rhett doesn’t want to lose her, not before the play even starts, but he knows Heather and he knows she won’t go onstage without her cap. 

“Don’t leave me,” Rhett pleads, taking hold of the lapels of her coat and pulling her close. “They’ll eat me alive without you here.” She looks up at Rhett, a smile on her face and her eyes shining, and she tugs away from him.

“You’ll be fine, Rhett,” she says. “I’ll be back long before Heather is even on. I promise.”

“But what if they revolt once you leave?” Rhett asks.

“They won’t. Rhett, if you don’t let go of my coat I’m not going to make it back in time.” He releases her and he was pulling her in tight; she falls back a step and Link catches her before she loses her balance. “Make sure he doesn’t run away, Link,” she says, one finger jabbing at Link’s chest. “He tends to do that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Link replies, his mouth twitching up even as he tries to be serious. 

“Behave!” Stevie calls to the kids. “Does anyone else need anything while I’m out?” Three slushie orders and one request for Skittles later Stevie is on her way out into the night, her jacket bundled up tight and her hood tossed up. “You behave, too,” she says. “I’ll be right back. Don’t do anything crazy like decide this is a bad idea.” She’s stern as always, her braid hidden and tucked into her hood, and all Rhett can see of her is her shining eyes. 

“Just hurry back to me,” he replies, and those eyes gleam as she nods, serious. 

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” she says.

“Never,” Rhett replies, and he watches her go as she shoves the curtain aside and disappears. He stands still a moment too long and the kids get antsy, tugging on his arms and asking what they should do. He gives orders as best he can and the minutes waste away, the play due to start in twenty minutes and then ten. True to Stevie’s prediction he thinks long and hard about running away and letting Link take charge. He paces and fusses with costumes as the kids pass him by, each of them casting him off and telling him to calm down before they _force feed_ him a Xanax. 

“I’m fine,” he assures Link when he catches him by the shoulders. 

“Breathe, baby,” he says. 

“I’m trying.”

“Take a deep breath. Not from your chest; you’ll get lightheaded. Down here.” He presses one hand to Rhett’s stomach and holds it there, waiting for him to inhale and hold it before letting go. When he does Rhett releases the breath and…okay. He feels a little better already. “Thank you,” he says.

“I love you,” Link replies.

“Okay, that’s enough of you.” Rhett brushes away from him, too nervous to deal with this now. He only looks wounded for a moment as Rhett walks away. He’ll be okay. It’s Rhett’s own heart he’s worried about, his pulse racing. It’s a terrible decision and he knows it before he even makes it but he checks around the curtain to peer at the crowd. He feels his heart slam up into his throat and he needs to spend the next two minutes sitting down. Amelia pets his head and tells him he’s fine, everything is fine, they’re going to do great. But he can hear Heather pacing as she waits for Stevie to come back and Link asks Amelia for a turn with Rhett and he’s not going to make it. There’s five minutes to go and Link sits behind Rhett on the stage, dropping slender hands to his shoulders. He begins to dig his thumbs into Rhett’s shoulder blades and he sighs into his touch. 

“You’re okay,” he says. “This is going to go well and you’re going to be on top of the world.”

“What if something goes wrong?” Rhett asks. “I should have been teaching them all month and I left them to do it on their own. What was I thinking?”

“You trust them,” he replies, dipping his hands lower down Rhett’s back. “You know they’re going to be great.” Rhett whines as he presses into a painful knot near his spine, chin dropping to his chest. 

“It won’t be any thanks to me if they pull this off,” Rhett says. 

“They did it for you, honeybee.” Link has him there. Two minutes to go and Rhett has to get up and flicker the lights so the crowd knows to sit down and quiet down. Link readies the lights as Rhett gathers up his kids, drawing them into a circle around him.

“I owe you guys the world for this,” Rhett tells them. “Just please don’t fuck it up.” He tries to tease but he sounds serious, the kids frowning before he manages to say he doesn’t mean it. He knows they won’t. “I’ll be right back here no matter what you need. Good luck. You’re going to kick ass.” He puts his hand in the middle of their huddle and there’s thirty seconds to go. Amelia sticks her hand in first and Robbie puts his paw in after her, the rest of the hands piling on top. “Go on, guys,” Rhett says, eyes on the hand on top of his. “I have all the faith in the world in you.” It’s a brief moment but one long enough to make tears brim up in his eyes. The second the kids turn away he wipes at his eyes and hopes nobody saw. 

From across the stage Link gives a thumbs up and Rhett nods. It’s time. And the play goes on. 

Rhett watches the entire show from backstage with his fist in his mouth, biting down on his knuckles. But his panic fades away the moment Amelia steps onstage; she’s magic. She has enough confidence for ten people, her head held high, and Rhett can’t believe she’s his. He has to get her autograph after this show. Robbie is no different, the crowd gasping at his first big reveal as he growls and snarls. Cogsworth and Lumiere draw laugh after laugh, teasing each other and cracking jokes. Ian’s Lumiere steals the show for _Be Our Guest_ , and Rhett covers his eyes as Robbie’s Beast finds Belle in his forbidden wing. 

Stevie misses Heather’s entrance and Rhett’s heart stops for a brief moment she spends refusing to go onstage, but Link reminds her she’s the star of the next song and in the end she makes it on just in time. Stevie has been gone far longer than she promised but Rhett doesn’t have time to be upset; it’s intermission before he’s ready and he gathers up the kids again. 

“You’re amazing,” he says. “All of you. Amazing.” He doesn’t know what to say but he hopes his short bursts of semi-intelligible words are enough. 

“Really?” Amelia asks.

“Honestly,” he replies. “I’m getting goose bumps here. Now get the hell back out there and finish this show.” The kids offer Rhett frantic hugs and smiles as they dash about, falling over one another to touch up makeup and change costumes. Rhett feels he’s in the middle of a tornado as they race around him. And on the outside stands Link. He’s the only one standing still, starting out at the back of the auditorium, and it takes Rhett throwing a balled up T-shirt at him to get his attention. He turns to face Rhett with five minutes left of intermission and Rhett tries to get closer to him but Ian and Adam bang into each other and fall at Rhett’s feet. 

“You two are something else,” Rhett says, both hands out to help them up. 

“You love it,” Adam replies, and then they’re gone. By the time Rhett makes it to Link’s side he’s staring again, as still as stone. 

“What’s wrong?” Rhett asks him, and he stiffens when Rhett wraps an arm around his middle. “What are you looking at?” 

“Nothing,” he says, like he thinks Rhett’s stupid and he doesn’t see. He’s worried. 

“Is something happening?” he asks. None of the kids are close enough to hear but Rhett steps closer to Link anyway to get closer to his mouth. 

“Nothing,” he says again. But he rises on his toes and kisses Rhett’s cheek and something is bothering him. Rhett can tell; he must think Rhett’s an idiot if he thinks he can’t see it. Rhett tugs on the sleeve of his denim jacket and tells him he better fess up before Rhett rips his head off.

“Concentrate on your play, love,” he says, leaning in again to press a careful kiss to the corner of Rhett’s mouth. His eyes are far away and Rhett reaches for his face to make him focus.

“It’s intermission. Tell me now.” 

“I don’t want to worry you,” he says. “It’s probably nothing.”

“But?” Rhett presses. His face is tight and something is very, very wrong. Rhett just needs Link to tell him what. 

“I’m worried about Stevie,” he says, and oh. Oh, no. 

“Uh,” Rhett says. “Why?” Okay, maybe if he acts like there’s nothing to be afraid of there will be. Rhett’s hands don’t shake the moment he says it. Nope. No way. 

“She should have been back by now.” He makes up his mind as he speaks, his eyes locked on the back door of the auditorium. “I’m going to go look for her.” Link moves like he’s actually going to leave Rhett here, one stupid Saint Laurent boot off the floor already. 

“Don’t leave me,” Rhett pleads. He already lost his right hand in Stevie and he can’t lose another; his own hands are tied and he can’t do this alone. But Link’s stormy eyes are wide, so wide Rhett can see himself reflected in them, and he might throw up. But he nods. “Okay, go. Come back to me.”

“I will,” he says. He cards back his hair and he kisses Rhett hard on the cheek, pulling back and kissing him on the side of the jaw. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Of course,” Rhett replies. “Be careful.” He doesn’t know why he says it but he regrets it right away. Link looks at him with anguish in his face, his sharp jaw set tight. 

“You too,” he says. “Love you.” He kisses Rhett’s lips and he leaves the same way as Stevie, leaving Rhett all alone with the kids as they run around. 

“Where is he going?!” Amelia asks, and Rhett shushes her and tells her he’s just going out to get away from her constant pacing. She all but stomps on his foot as she flounces away in pretend anger. She’s a damn good actor, Rhett’s Amelia, and by the time it’s time to kick start act two she’s back to her normal self. No one else asks where Stevie and Link are and Rhett is grateful. He has no idea what he would say. 

The second act begins with a bang and goes strong, Rhett’s kids as perfect and as mesmerizing as he could have ever dreamed. His Beast and Belle are electric, his Gaston horrifying, his Mrs. Potts warm and soft and kind. The act goes off without a hitch, from Gaston falling from the castle to Robbie hauling off his Beast costume and coming out with his own face for the first time tonight. Robbie picks up Amelia and spins her around, the two coming together for their big kiss, and this is the moment Rhett wanted all of this to lead up to. This is the moment he should be ecstatic, his fist in the air, enthralled. But his heart pounds and he is alone and the longer he waits the hotter he gets in the pit of his stomach.

The cheering from the crowd is uproarious as Belle and Beast kiss and Rhett would be thrilled enough to cry if Link and Stevie would just return. But they don’t. He spends the rest of the play alone on the side of the stage. His fingernails bleed by the time his kids take their bows. His hands shake as he closes the curtains and he doesn’t want the kids to see. He doesn’t want them to worry when there is no reason. The crowd begins to leave and the kids change out of their costumes to join their parents. Rhett makes sure they all have rides home, going from kid to kid, and he accepts hugs and kind words as he goes.

“Did we do well, Mr. McLaughlin?” Amelia asks, her face shining. Her little sister, a future hopeful, has climbed backstage and Amelia has one hand in her hair. Rhett tells Amelia she did amazing and he couldn’t have hoped for a better Belle. “We’ll do even better tomorrow night,” she promises, solemn. 

“I don’t think that’s even possible, Amy,” he says, and she frowns for a moment like she’s going to ask what’s wrong but her sister tugs her away. The younger girl wants to meet Robbie and Rhett doesn’t blame her. He watches him greet Amelia and her sister, scooping the young girl into his arms, and Rhett has to get out of here. He needs to know what’s going on. He tries his best to usher the kids out from backstage; he turns out the stage lights and they scurry into the audience. He hops off the stage and accepts handshakes and congratulations from parents, nodding and smiling and trying not to look as panicked as he feels. 

“Thank you for doing this,” a man he doesn’t recognize says. “You have no idea how much this means to Robbie.” 

“I think I do,” he tells Robbie’s father, taking his hand and letting him shake Rhett’s so hard his whole body shakes. He can’t leave kids here unattended and he feels he could burst from the way his heart leaps in his chest. He hates waiting. He has to act normal, his eyes on the exit, but he doesn’t see Link and he doesn’t see Stevie.

“Yeah, have a good night, Heather!” Rhett calls after her as she leaves with her mother. “I’m sorry about your costume, I’m sure Stevie will have it fixed for tomorrow’s show!” Heather looks back at Rhett for a long moment as her mother tugs her away like she doesn’t believe him for a second. He doesn’t even know if he believes himself. 

Once the auditorium is empty Rhett shuts off the lights and stands alone in the dark as he tries to catch his breath. Sweat pools in the small of his back but there’s nothing to be afraid of. He just has to get out of here right now, that’s all. He’s supposed to clean up but his heart is about to explode and he will apologize tomorrow. He drops his keys four times as he tries to lock up and by the time he gets the door shut the parking lot is almost empty. But he can see flashing lights down the block, a police car in the middle of the street holding cars back, and he can’t do this. He can’t even breathe, never mind speak, but he stands in the middle of the lot with his breath ghosting out before him and he pulls out his phone. Before he can call Link his name flashes on the screen- Link’s calling him. 

He doesn’t want to answer. Rhett knows what he’s going to say. But he picks up, watching people get out of their cars to see what the holdup is, what’s going on just across the street from the school. 

“Rhett,” Link breathes.

“Link…” he whines. Rhett’s warning him, giving him a fair chance to not tell him what he’s going to tell him. 

“I’m coming to meet you,” he says. “I can see you from where I am. Stay still.” He hangs up and Rhett doesn’t listen. He never listens. He takes off running across the lot, chest heaving and stomach aching. He doesn’t even make it halfway to the milling crowd before Link slams into him, stopping him dead in his tracks and holding him back by his shoulders. 

“Link…” Rhett warns again, Link’s eyes impossibly big in the dark. “Link, d-don’t even think about it.” But he shakes his head. He shakes his head. Rhett takes the moment Link spends with his eyes closed to yank away, dashing across the lot. Rhett makes it about three steps before Link wraps his arms around him from behind and pulls him back.

“Rhett, don’t,” he says. “Honey, hey. Stay here.”

“Don’t call me that!” Rhett barks. “Let me go right now, Link. I swear to God, you b-better let me go.” Rhett stutters and he loosens his grip, his palms sweaty. There’s a second police car pulling up now, creating a detour, turning people down a side road, and this can’t be happening. Rhett stomps on Link’s foot and slams an elbow up into his nose and as he cries out Rhett races away.

“Rhett!” Link calls after him. This time he follows close but doesn’t catch up. Rhett doesn’t know if he runs too fast or if Link’s given up. If he’s going to let Rhett see. Rhett bursts through the back of the crowd, not breathing, limbs numb. People cry out as he and then Link push through to the front, to the police officers in the road. One officer tries to stop Rhett, he really does, but he hits the pavement on his knees and dodges his arm. He crashes to the street and his knees crack, his hands hitting gravel, and Stevie lies face down in the middle of the road. There are hands on Rhett’s back and voices over his head and Stevie’s braid is matted down with blood, her coat wet and her hands splayed on the street. There’s a plastic bag beneath her, a bag from the hardware store. She almost made it. She almost made it back to Rhett. He hears Link say something he ignores. A police officer replies and a blanket is tossed over Rhett’s shoulders as he sits curled up on the pavement. He doesn’t want it. But he can’t find his body to throw it off. 

Stevie is dead in the middle of the street and Rhett’s not breathing. He couldn’t if he wanted to. Above his head he hears crying and he doesn’t know who it is but he would strangle them if he could. She’s _his_ Stevie, _his_ best friend. Who here thinks they have the goddamn right to cry? He doesn’t know at what point he loses sight of the street but the world slides away from him. The noise fades and he curls up on himself, face in his knees, and no one tries to move him for a long time. By the time they get him to raise his head Stevie is gone. She’s gone except for a bloodstain in the middle of the street and Rhett is alone. 

A police officer with careful hands tries to get him to stand but he can’t. Rhett doesn’t even know if he has legs anymore for all the good they do him. Link scoops him up off the ground and cradles him to his chest and assures the police he doesn’t need to go to the hospital. He’ll take him home. He’ll be fine. They let Link take him, his arms strong around Rhett, and he places him gingerly into the passenger seat of his car. Link peels out of the lot and he drives, far out of the city and out into the suburbs, and when the gas light turns on he pulls into a hotel. He carries Rhett, still wrapped in a paramedic’s emergency blanket, into the lobby and when he sets Rhett down he sways and nearly topples. He books a room for the night, just tonight, and once he pays he pulls Rhett back into his arms and carries him all the way up to room 428. 

His heart thrums by Rhett’s ear and he doesn’t think he’s taken a breath since he left the school. 

Link takes the blanket from Rhett and unties his shoes, peels off his socks, and tries to tuck him into bed. But he comes alive for the first time since dropping to the pavement and takes hold of Link’s arm, eyes so wide they go dry. 

“What do you want me to do for you?” Link asks, and without giving him an answer Rhett dives into his arms. Rhett lets Link rock him in a hard hotel bed, his arms strong and his chest stony, and he can’t do this. He has to take something, he needs to fall asleep and wake up where this isn’t real. He tries to tell Link but his voice comes out a croak. 

When he tries to speak he whimpers instead and Link holds him tighter as he cries, choking on dry sobs. Link hushes him, quiets him, like this is anything but the end of the world. He sings to Rhett, soft as he runs his fingers through Rhett’s hair. How he’s anything but a mess like Rhett right now eludes him. He doesn’t care. He has no idea; he doesn’t care. But Rhett’s tired, his head pounding and his lungs aching, and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to make this go away. 

“Link,” he manages, and Link’s fingers tighten in his hair. “Link, m-my Stevie…”

“I know,” he says like he has any idea at all. “I know, honey, I know.”

“M-my Stevie, Link.” Rhett’s voice shakes hard and he doesn’t recognize it; he sounds broken. He probably is. Link tells him he knows, he knows, and he’s so, so sorry. There’s nowhere to go, Rhett realizes, nowhere to hide where he can pretend this is a dream. There’s nothing he can do. His throat aches and he tastes blood and all he wants to do is cry. But nothing comes out. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and lets Link lull him to sleep in a hotel far from home. 

 

The first thing Rhett hears when he drags himself from sleep is the morning news. It’s nothing he wants to hear. There’s been another murder, another potential victim of Los Angeles’ serial killer, and this one was a school teacher, a high school teacher adored by everyone she touched. This one was special. This one was Stevie. And this one wasn’t drained. The news anchor questions whether this murder was perpetrated by the same killer and Rhett wants to scream at her to stop talking about his Stevie like a statistic. She’s not. 

Link sits on the foot of their hotel bed with his face close to the TV, the volume turned down low. Rhett appreciates the effort to keep from waking him but he’s awake now. Link starts when Rhett sits up, his hand flying to the remote to mute the TV.

“Too late,” Rhett croaks, his voice ragged. “I heard.” Link reaches for him and he crashes back down on the mattress. Rhett throws one arm over his eyes and Link sits perfectly still too far away to touch. Rhett doesn’t want Link to touch him, anyway. Rhett wants to lie here for the rest of his life and pretend he’s made of stone. He’s not real. If he can’t be touched he can’t be hurt. But Link is a bastard and Link pulls him back.

“They didn’t drain her, Rhett. They killed her. For no reason. Just to provoke me. Just to get to me.” He speaks in jagged, pointed sentences, short and strangled. Rhett doesn’t know why he keeps talking. It’s not like it’s making either of them feel any better. 

“Yep,” Rhett replies. The news moves on, the anchor slipping into a more upbeat tone to talk about the best places to shop last minute for Christmas. And Stevie is a statistic. 

“I killed her, Rhett, didn’t I?” 

“Uh,” Rhett groans. Link waits for him, frozen at the foot of the bed. Rhett’s glad Link can’t see him as he replies. “You did.” 

Link doesn’t say anything for a long time. The morning news ends and the sun slides up the back wall of their room. Rhett should be getting ready for school, for the second and last night of his play, but he’s here in a hotel room with the man who let his best friend die and he doesn’t know what to do. He ought to scream at Link, shove him out the door and lock it in his face. Rhett should _kill_ him, rip his arms off and leave him to bleed. He doesn’t have the energy to fight him, to make him pay, and he doesn’t know if he even wants to. Rhett was the one who sent Stevie out into the night. Rhett’s the reason she was outside, in the open where anyone could get to her. Maybe he shouldn’t blame Link. He should blame himself. 

When Link speaks next there’s worry in his voice. “Breathe, baby,” he says. “You have to breathe.” Rhett drags in a breath and maybe he was holding it. He doesn’t know. He feels far away from himself, teeth buried deep in the inside of his own arm. He doesn’t even feel it. 

There are a million things Rhett should be doing right now and he doesn’t know where to look first. He finds his phone on the floor and punches in the number for Rydell High. His throat feels sticky and he doesn’t know how he manages to speak, but he does and he tells the secretary who answers the phone what he needs. She knows Rhett and she knows Stevie- she knew Stevie- and she sounds so sympathetic he almost hangs up. He can’t deal with everyone treating him like this, like he’s going to break if they touch him. But the secretary transfers him and the principal of Rydell High sounds much the same as her. 

“Why don’t you take a break, Rhett?” Jay Albright says. “There’s only four days of school before Christmas break and I want you to take them off. Can you do that?”

Rhett’s voice crackles and bends when he replies. “I guess so,” he says. Link touches his thigh, fingertips timid, and Rhett lets him be. He just doesn’t want to see him. 

“Take care of yourself, Rhett,” Jay says. “I’m so sorry.” 

“’Sall right,” Rhett replies. His throat is going to close up on him and he’s going to drown here in this bed. He wants to, in any case. It would be easier than this, wouldn’t it? 

“Try and have a good holiday,” he says, and Rhett tells him he’ll do his best. He hangs up and his phone thumps to the floor, chest heaving as he tries to keep from crying. Link squeezes at the inside of Rhett’s thigh, his hand gentle, and Rhett should go home. He should be there; he shouldn’t be hiding out in fear of his own life when Stevie’s family comes to his place to collect her things. He tries to tell Link he wants to go home but when he opens his mouth Link shushes him. He _shushes_ him, quiet and soft and unfeeling, and Rhett moves his arm to peek at him. He looks the same as always, sharp angles and soft skin and wide blue eyes. But he’s different where it matters; he doesn’t care. His face is blank and he doesn’t fucking care, not about Stevie and not about any of this.

“How can you sit there and look at me with a straight face?” Rhett asks. “How can you _sit there_ so quiet, Link? What’s _wrong_ with you?” 

“Don’t snap at me,” he says, and fine. Instead of snapping Rhett growls and he lifts his hand as Rhett rolls away, curling up on the side of the bed so he doesn’t have to face him. Rhett’s kids will be waiting for him at school; they’ll be counting on him for the play tonight. But it’s not going to happen and he’s not even going to be there to tell them he’s sorry. He’s going to let them down but at least he doesn’t have to see their faces when they see he’s run away. What else would they expect from him, anyway? They know him. Running away is just what he does.

“Rhett, can you imagine what Stevie would say if she saw you lying here like this?” Link asks. It’s a low blow and Rhett burrows into the bed, the covers over his head. Just so Link can’t touch him. 

“No,” Rhett replies. “Because she’s not here. She’s dead.”

“Rhett…”

“Don’t. It’s our fault, Link. Both of us. You and me, we fucking killed her.” Link finds Rhett’s knee under the blankets and he squeezes. He lets go when Rhett pulls away. 

“It’s my fault,” he says. “And I’m doing the best I can to live with it. You know why?” 

“Because you don’t care.” Link’s response is so quick Rhett doesn’t hear him move until he’s on top of him, ripping the covers off Rhett’s head and slamming his wrists together over his head. 

“Don’t you dare,” he says. He’s angry. He’s more than angry; his eyes burn and never has he fixed a look like this at Rhett. It’s a look that says he wants it to hurt. He wants to make Rhett bleed. But Rhett wants the same for him. It would be easier if the both of them were bleeding together. 

“Don’t I dare what?” Rhett asks, struggling uselessly against Link’s hold on him. “Tell the truth? You don’t care, Link, you don’t fucking care. Why don’t you care?”

“Do you think that’s true?” he asks. “You don’t really think that of me, Rhett. Please tell me you don’t think that.”

“You don’t care about anything,” Rhett tells him. “Least of all Stevie and me. Get off me. I’m going home.” 

“You don’t get to say that to me,” Link says, and for the first time Rhett sees what it is people fear in the night. His eyes are cold, far colder than Rhett’s ever seen. He’s going to eat Rhett, swallow him whole and make it long and painful. He’s going to die in this hotel room beneath Link’s talented hands. Fine. Good. It’s better than the alternative, going home to an apartment full of Stevie’s things. 

“Fuck you,” Rhett tells him just because he can. Just because part of Rhett wants Link to kill him and get it over with. He won’t. Rhett knows he won’t. But he pins Rhett down and looks at him with fury building in his face and Rhett thinks he just might want to. 

“You can swear at me all you want,” he says. “But don’t tell me I don’t care. You don’t get to decide that for me.” 

“Why aren’t you _screaming_?” Rhett asks, desperate because that’s all he wants to do. Link’s cold fingers are tight on his wrists and he’s heavy, his body holding Rhett to the bed, and he doesn’t want to be here anymore. He wants to be somewhere far from Link and the reminder that they did this. He wants to bolt and not look back for a while. There are a lot of things he wishes he could do but for now Link has his hair in his face and his knees on either side of Rhett and they’re not going anywhere. 

“I did my share of screaming when I was alive,” he says. “I’ve taken more hits than you can imagine. I’m going to tell you something right now. The only thing I have left to lose is you. And I am going to fight with all I have to keep them from getting to you. And I am going to find them, hunt them down, and one by one I’m going to kill them for what they did. They want me? They can have me. But I’m going to make sure they never recover from me before I let them take me down. Do you hear me? They are going to pay, Rhett. I feel just as broken as you. But I…”

“Prove it,” Rhett spits. Link pauses. “Go on, prove it. Do you even know how to _fake_ hurt, Link? Or did you forget how to be human at some point and never get it back?” Rhett’s hurting him now if the downward turn his mouth takes means anything. But he’s not done tearing Link apart; Rhett wants him to feel just as empty and twisted up as he does.

“You’re a fucking piece of work, Rhett,” Link tells him. Like he doesn’t already know. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to figure it out for himself. 

“Scream,” Rhett says. “Shout, hit something, throw a fit, hit _me_. Jesus, Link, just do _something_.” He can’t be alone in this. He can’t. The TV drones on and he thinks he could die. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve lost so much, Rhett,” Link says. “The feeling takes some getting used to.”

“When was the last time you were sad enough to cry?” Rhett asks him.

“I don’t know.” 

“Did you cry before you tried to kill yourself?”

“Yes.” He’s like stone. Rhett has him angry or he has him empty. Both is what he wants. Both is what will make him just like Rhett. 

“Would you be this quiet if it was me, Link? If it was me who died last night? You’d already be gone, wouldn’t you? You’d be dead already; they’d have killed you for going after them. So why are you still here?” Link bows his head and he’s heavy. Rhett’s lost the feeling in his legs below the knees and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t need them anyway. 

“You have a lot to learn about me,” Link says. “Too much.” His lips are parted and his eyes closed, the rest of him still as he speaks. Rhett loses the feeling in his hands and that’s all right. He doesn’t need them for the moment. Let oblivion have them. 

“Maybe you should fuck off, then, before I’m next,” Rhett replies. He’s not saying goodbye. He knows he’s not. But he’s tired and he hurts and he doesn’t know what else to do but lash out. Make him cry. Rhett can do that. He knows he can. Link just has to let him. 

“Why are you so scared to let me see you hurt?” Link asks. “Who made you like this, Rhett? Why do you feel the need to hide behind all this bullshit?”

“Meet the real me,” Rhett snarls. He was bound to do this sooner or later. He was bound to shove Link away and shove him hard. He just didn’t expect it to happen this way. 

“This isn’t the real you,” Link says. “The real you is in a lot of pain but the real you is nothing like this.”

“Like you know me!” Rhett shouts. He rips his arms from Link’s grasp and sits up, shoving Link off him and off the bed. “Like you fucking know the first thing about me!” Link looks up at him from the floor, his lips open and his eyes shining behind skewed glasses. “You think you get to come into my life and fall in love with me and cause all of this? Do you really think I’m this easy to memorize? You think you have me down, don’t you?”

“No,” Link says. 

“Then why do you look at me like you’ve got it all figured out?”

“Because I fucking love you, Rhett. I don’t have anything figured out, not at all, but it’s okay because I know one thing. I know I love you. Happy? That’s all I’ve got.” 

“I don’t want to hear that anymore,” Rhett says. Just because he knows even less than Link. “I don’t want you to tell me you love me ever again. Do you hear me?” For a beat Link’s jaw tenses, his eyes flicking away from Rhett. But then he nods. 

“Fine,” he says. 

“Fine,” Rhett replies. The fight leaves Rhett’s body and he collapses back in bed. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. He wants to quit. This isn’t fair; Stevie should be here and she should be here for Christmas. To see the play they’ve worked on all autumn long. To laugh with Rhett, at Rhett, whatever the hell she was always laughing about. The bottom line is she should be here and she’s not. And there’s nothing Rhett can do to fix it. 

There’s nothing he can do to fix himself, either, and he and Link sit in silence until Rhett’s rumbling stomach reminds him he’s alive. Link orders room service and while they wait he draws Rhett a bath, the tub massive and pristine, deep enough for Rhett to drown in if that’s what he wants. He hasn’t decided yet. He’s too exhausted to fight and he lets Link carry him into the bathroom and into the bath. He’s tired, tired to his bones, and Link washes his hair, fingernails sharp and blissful at Rhett’s scalp. He’s gentle with Rhett and he doesn’t want it. 

But Rhett’s stupid and broken and for the first time, knowing Link loves him doesn’t feel like hell. It’s almost sort of nice. He cards back Rhett’s hair and he squeezes the tiny tube of soap into his hands, rubbing down Rhett’s shoulders and across his chest. He hums a song Rhett knows, another one he can’t place, but he doesn’t care. This one can be a secret only Link knows. It’s all right by Rhett.

Link scoops him up out of the tub and wraps him in a towel, drying his hair with a washcloth as he sits soaking the bed. Rhett told him not to say he loves him but he can feel it in the way Link touches him. That he can handle. That is all right. Rhett closes his eyes and lets Link take care of him.

It’s almost sort of nice.

 

Rhett gets a phone call in his hotel bed and the police want to talk to him. The police want him home. Link carries him to the car and brushes a kiss across his forehead before he heads back into the hotel to check out of their room. Rhett can see him at the front desk from where he sits and watches him talk to the employees like he’s okay. Like everything is normal and like they didn’t come here to hide from a killer who will be coming for them next. Like maybe this is some romantic getaway and Rhett’s a little hungover from the fun they had last night and aren’t they Something Else? Link catches him staring and he leans on the window with his eyes closed until Link comes back to Rhett just to pretend he didn’t. When he gets back he scoops Rhett’s hand into his and kisses the knuckles one at a time. Link wants to be made of stone but he squeaks, surprised, when Rhett throws his arms around Link’s neck and drags him close. 

“I don’t want to go home,” Rhett tells him, and his arms circle around Link, his seatbelt choking him more than Link’s embrace. 

“I know, honey,” he says. “I’m right here.” Right. He is alive and Rhett is alive and he guesses what he should do is keep on living. He just has to remember how. 

They ride home in silence and Rhett drops his keys trying to get into his apartment. It’s six days until Christmas and he doesn’t want to step inside and see Stevie’s present tucked, hidden, in the back of the freezer. He hid it behind frozen pizzas because she won’t touch that shit. It’s gross, she says, the stuff they put in frozen food to keep it good. She used to say that, anyway. Rhett doesn’t like to think of Stevie in the past tense but he should probably get used to it. He gets the door open and it’s quiet here, empty and dark. Link calls the police department to tell them they are home and waiting for them and Rhett heads without a word to the freezer. He tosses boxes on the floor and leaves them there, digging through ice cream and old bags of fruit to get to the bouquet of strawberries in the back. 

“What are you doing?” Link asks, hanging up the phone to find Rhett dragging Stevie’s present out of the freezer and into his arms. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Rhett says. “Not like she’s here to mind.” Link watches him as he crosses the kitchen and heads into the living room, dropping the bouquet to slide open a window. It’s a long, long drop down. And the reminder of a Christmas Stevie should have been here to see has to go. 

“Rhett, hey,” Link tries, but Rhett heaves the bouquet up to the windowsill and it’s a lot heavier than it looks. It falls, out the window and into the air, dropping to splatter spectacularly on the sidewalk. Red chunks of strawberry paint the street and it looks too much like blood for Rhett to handle. The next thing he knows he’s on his knees, Link holding his hair out of his face as he pukes in the bathroom. 

“She should be here,” Rhett chokes, taking a glass of water as Link slides it into his hand. He gargles and spits and wipes his mouth, passing the empty glass back to Link and leaning on the sink. 

“I know,” he says, solemn. He knows just as well as Rhett does. And he knows there’s a present with his name on it, a present from Stevie, hidden somewhere in the apartment. He just doesn’t want to think about it yet. Far before he’s ready the police arrive, two cops on Rhett’s living room sofa, and they ask a million questions. They let him answer and they ask a million more. He has to lie. It hurts, his chest aching, but he has to tell them Stevie didn’t have enemies. No one would do this to her, no one that he knew. Link keeps his eyes down and his jaw clenched tight. Rhett wants to tell them he knows exactly who did this and who needs to pay. But this is the real world, isn’t it, the world inhabited by cops? Rhett’s part of the real world as he answers their questions and the truth has no place here. 

“She had this on her,” one officer says, and he pulls something from the inside of his coat. He passes it into Rhett’s hands, the silver knife Link gave Stevie, and Link makes a noise that sounds almost like a sob when he sees it. The officer only gives him a passing glance before asking Rhett why Stevie carried something so sharp.

“Dunno,” he says. “Can I keep it?” The officers glance at one another and the one doing the questioning shrugs.

“Sure,” he says. Rhett thanks him and stuffs the blade and the plastic evidence bag it sits inside into the couch. The officer watches him and he has nothing else to say. Neither does the officer. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. “I get real tired of saying that to people, especially during the holidays. I hope we catch whoever is doing this soon.” Rhett tells him he does, too, and they thank him for his time. _Sure. No problem. You’re welcome. Anytime._ He locks the door behind them and he climbs fully clothed into bed and doesn’t move again the rest of the day. 

 

Stevie died on a Friday and her funeral is on Monday, four days before Christmas. Her parents are there and her mother doesn’t let Rhett go for a long time, her tears wetting the front of his dress shirt. Stevie would have killed him for showing up as rumpled as he did but she’ll have to understand. He’s doing his best. But he doesn’t want to be here at all. 

Rhett’s kids are here and he keeps his head bowed, desperate for them to leave him alone. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to watch them cry. But they come to Rhett like he should have known they would and he doesn’t need to tell them he’s sorry he abandoned them. They understand. Amelia links her arm up with Rhett’s and leans on him, Ian behind him with his chin on Rhett’s shoulder and Heather and Robbie on his other arm. Amelia sounds like a mouse when she cries and Robbie like a scratchy record player and Rhett could have gone his whole life without knowing that. 

He feels like every person in the world wants to console him and he just wants to run. Relatives of Stevie’s, people he has never met, drag him into their arms and tell him how much they miss her. Like it’s news to Rhett how bad this feels. How strange it feels to have a hole in his chest where his best friend should be. He disentangles himself as best he can and he makes his way outside. He’s shaken even Link off, leaving him to tell the kids something like, “I’m sorry he’s such a jerk. He’s just hurting, just like you.” Rhett doesn’t really care if that’s what he says. He just can’t be inside anymore. He hasn’t smoked since he was a teenager but he does it now, bumming a cigarette from an aunt of Stevie’s he doesn’t know. They talk about her as they smoke and this aunt hasn’t seen Stevie in twelve years. Since she was a kid. And she talks like she knew Stevie all her life, loved her and lived and breathed for her. He could kick the woman’s teeth in. Instead he takes long and painful drags of his cigarette and asks for another. She gives one to Rhett and presses a third in his jacket pocket for good luck. He tells her he needs all he can get and she leaves him alone in the cold. 

Link catches Rhett with his third cigarette between his teeth and he takes it from Rhett, plucking it from his lips and sticking it between his own. Rhett wipes his eyes when Link looks down to flick the ashes away. By the time he steals the cigarette back his eyes are dry. 

“Do you want to go home?” Link asks. He doesn’t but anywhere is better than here. At home they lounge in Rhett’s bed, Link tracing patterns on his back with his fingertips. Rhett doesn’t mind his hands warming him where he feels the coldest and his body is the distraction he needs. All he has to do is point to where it hurts and Link kisses him there, his lips careful on Rhett’s forehead, on his chest, behind his ears. He doesn’t tell Rhett he loves him. He doesn’t say anything at all. 

 

Rhett wakes up Christmas morning to strange sounds coming from the living room and the other side of his bed empty. Yawning and achy he pads out of his room to find Link sitting cross legged on the living room carpet. His back faces Rhett and he steps closer, placing a hand in Link’s hair and tugging. He flinches when Rhett asks him what’s wrong and as his breath hitches the noises stop. Link is crying. He’s sitting in Rhett’s living room with his back to him and his body shaking and he’s _crying_. Rhett sees why when he sits down and curls up at his side. He has Stevie’s gift to him in his hands, the watch she picked out, her eyes sparkling with glee over her find. Today the sun will rise at 7:18 in the morning but it hasn’t risen yet. If Rhett could lend any amount of comfort he would try but Link presses a big box into his hands and it has his name on it in Stevie’s crooked cursive. 

It takes Rhett almost five minutes of perfect silence, sunrise getting closer, to gather up the courage to rip into the red and white paper. Link leans on his shoulder as he picks at the tape sealing the box, hands shaking. Once he gets the tape off he pauses, the flaps of the box hanging half open.

“Go on,” Link says. And he does. The top of the box is stuffed with tissue paper and he pulls out wads of it, letting it collect on the floor. Link catches his breath the same time as Rhett does. There’s a book on top, a thick book with a red cover titled _Vampires for Dummies_. Rhett chokes on the threat of laughter in the back of his throat. It won’t come out so he bites it back down. Next he pulls out a note, a page torn from a notebook. He reads the last thing Stevie ever wrote for him with his chest aching and his eyes fuzzy. 

“I thought I would give you a little help with him,” she wrote, “just in case you put your big boy pants on for once and let him keep you. You deserve to be happy, Rhett. Merry Christmas. I love you more than I will probably ever let on. I just like to keep it secret to keep you guessing. Love you, love you. Stevie.” Rhett turns the page over in his hands and there’s more on the back, the ink a different color like she remembered something at the last second she needed to add. “P.S.,” she wrote. “They REALLY are lollipops made with reindeer blood. Don’t ask what I had to do to find them. I just thought you might enjoy a taste of what Link likes so much. P.P.S. I tried them. You might be better off just sticking your fingers down your throat and barfing ahead of time because you’ll be doing it anyway. LOVE YOU. Don’t hate me.”

Rhett digs into the box and pulls out scarlet lollipops and a copy of _Interview With a Vampire_ , followed by _Dracula_ and a biography of Elizabeth Bathory. Under that is a copy of _Twilight_ and a set of plastic vampire fangs, gummy candy shaped like a set of teeth, and at the bottom is Grease on DVD.

“Just an IDEA for the spring play!!!” Stevie wrote on a sticky note placed over John Travolta’s face. And by the time Rhett has everything spread out on the floor, eyes swimming in tears, Link has broken down again. Link cries like the ocean, swelling and falling, soft noises and barking sobs. Rhett doesn’t want to know that, either. He doesn’t want to know how this place feels without Stevie but it’s too late. He already knows. 

He pulls Link into his arms and he cries into his raven hair, his body shaking as Link cries with him. And he wants to tell Link he had a fraction of Stevie, a piece a lot smaller than his, and he has no fucking right. But he doesn’t. He can cry with Rhett all he wants. It makes him feel less alone to feel Link’s tears drying on his skin. They sit curled up together on the carpet, limbs tangled up, and Rhett doesn’t ever want to move again. Let the world move on without them. The world won’t miss the two of them and Rhett won’t miss them, either. 

“I l-lo…” Link tries, but Rhett’s not having it. Not today, not now. Rhett tells him he better not dare say it and he pulls away from Rhett to sit, his back to Rhett, on the windowsill. He hasn’t closed the window since he threw Stevie’s present out onto the street and it’s freezing, the morning cold as the sun begins to rise. Link presses his face to his knees and Rhett lets him be alone. He leaves his gift from Stevie in the living room and throws himself into bed. Rhett was going to tell him today. He was going to give back to him all he gives to Rhett. It’s the last thing he wants to do now. His present from Rhett sits in a bag under the bed and it’s going to have to wait. He can’t do it. Not today. 

They were invited to spend the day with Stevie’s family but Rhett can’t do it. He can’t stand there and watch them mourn, like zombies in their grief. He must look much the same but at least he doesn’t have to watch every tic in his own face, every flash of pain as things come back to him in bits and pieces. 

He misses her. There’s a ragged hole in his chest and he _misses_ her. He wants her to fill it, to scold him for something stupid, to flip her braid over her shoulder as she sits with him painting sets. He wants her to tell him she loves him despite everything, despite all the shit he throws her way, and he wants her to fix him. He wants her to make him go to Link. But she’s not here.

Link and Rhett sit on opposite sides of the apartment all day long, spending Christmas alone together. A thousand times Rhett gets out of bed and walks to the living room, watching the curve of Link’s spine as he sits, and a thousand times he goes back to his room without saying anything. The sun rises and falls and Link sits like a statue until it’s orange and red on the horizon. He’s not going to come to bed tonight, Rhett gets the feeling, unless he makes a choice. Unless he invites him. 

In the end, in the middle of the night, Rhett carries his rose scented candle into the living room and lights it, setting it beside Link where he sits on the sill. He doesn’t look at Rhett. He breaks into the box of liquor filled chocolates and bites into a square one filled with vodka. Link glances at the box but doesn’t take one until Rhett shakes it in his face. They don’t speak. That’s fine. They’re fine. He takes a round chocolate filled with rum and he grimaces as he swallows, his face sharp and pale in the light coming from the lamps outside. 

He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him but he wants to take care of Link. 

He takes Link by the hand and pulls him to his feet, his bones creaking as he stands. He doesn’t say a word as Rhett leads him to bed. He’s not giving Link everything. Not tonight. There’s a card he might decide not to give him and there are three words he really ought to say but not tonight. Not right now. Link is soft, lolling in the bed, and Rhett can give him almost everything. It might just be enough.

“Link,” he says, the first thing he has said since dawn.

“My Rhett,” he replies, and it sounds good to him. He’s Link’s Rhett. Fine. Good. He’s still here and maybe he’s not going anywhere.

“You’re everything,” Rhett tells him, and he looks at Rhett. He looks at him for the first time all damn day and he’s so pretty, his Link, and Rhett gulps as Link watches him. 

“I am?” he asks. 

“Yes.” It feels good to say. And it’s not what he wants but even so it does the trick. He smiles, watery and thin, but he smiles.

“I feel the same about you, Rhett,” he says. “I didn’t know you…I thought you didn’t…”

“I do.” Rhett kisses him and kisses him hard, teeth on his skin, and he sighs into it like he’s been waiting all his life. Rhett doesn’t know for sure but maybe he has been, too. 

Rhett kisses Link like it’s his last night on Earth. And he kisses back just the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, sorry. feel free to message me on tumblr at reedytenors with anything at all!


	9. IX

Rhett and Link spend the next week shut in Rhett’s apartment, rain falling for three days after Christmas. Link’s irascible and touchy more often than not but even so Rhett’s glad he doesn’t have to do this alone. He knows he’s no better than Link, anyway. He feels sick and heavy and wrong and he has no idea how he’s going to face school next week without Stevie. He’s going to get sympathy, looks and hugs and touches and words, and he wants none of it. What good does it do him? Stevie is still gone and Rhett is still missing his best friend in the world. 

On New Year’s Eve he sits curled up with a glass of champagne, watching Carson Daly all alone. He doesn’t know what Link is doing. He’s been out in the rain all day. He’s the first of them to venture outside and he’s been gone for hours, leaving Rhett in the quiet apartment with only the TV for company. It’s one hour to the new year when there’s a knock on the front door. It’s Link’s knock, one short rap and then two in quick succession, and Rhett wavers when he stands to let him in.

“Who is it?” he asks even though he knows, even though he sees Link laden down with grocery bags through the peephole in the door. 

“It’s the very cold and very tired late, great love of your life,” he replies, and Rhett almost doesn’t let him in for that. But when Rhett invites him in he kisses Rhett on the mouth, his lips cold, and it’s been a long day missing him. He drops his bags on the kitchen counter and pulls out ice cream, smiling as Rhett offers up a cheer. 

“It took you all day to get ice cream?” he asks.

“No,” he says. He has rainwater in his dark hair and on his eyelashes, his nose red, and it shouldn’t shock Rhett how lonely he’s been. But it does. He tries his best to keep from looking at him in a way that tells him so. “I also got you these.” With a dramatic flourish he pulls a bouquet of carnations from one of his bags, passing the pink and white flowers into Rhett’s hands. “Do you like them?”

“I prefer roses,” Rhett teases, and this isn’t as easy as he wants it to be, getting back into the rhythm of interacting and behaving like a normal person. But he tries his best. There’s a flicker of something dark in Link’s eyes, an edge of worry. A waver. At least he feels it, too. He watches Rhett fill a glass with water and drop the flowers in, making them look nice on the counter. Link asks him what flavor ice cream he wants and he fixes up a bowl of mint chocolate chip, taking chocolate syrup and sprinkles from his bags and adding those on top. Rhett’s stomach grumbles and he doesn’t know when he’s eaten last. But Link clinks spoons with Rhett and they sit together on the couch with thirty minutes until midnight. 

“Rhett,” Link says around the spoon in his mouth. 

“Yes?”

“It’s a few days late but would you like your Christmas present? I think you might like it.” Rhett considers it, his tongue on the roof of his mouth to keep brain freeze at bay, and he nods. 

“Sounds good,” he says. Link is gone in a second and back in another.

“Here,” he says, and he hands Rhett the small box he holds, wrapped up in silver paper with a silver bow on top. 

“What is it?” Rhett asks. 

“Open it, honeybee,” he replies. He sits facing Rhett and he doesn’t look at him; he cradles the box in his palms and gives it a shake. “Don’t do that,” he says. “Just open it.” Rhett digs his fingers into the tape stuck neatly down and he doesn’t think Link is even breathing as he watches. When he pops open the box he feels much the same. Link tugs a gold ring from a mound of cotton in the middle of the box and he holds it up so it sparkles, Rhett’s brain going fuzzy as he smiles. 

“What do you think?” he asks of the simple gold band, thick and heavy looking held between his fingers. 

“Uh,” Rhett replies. That about sums it up. He’s exhausted, Link knows he is, and he doesn’t know what Link’s playing at but the smile on his face scares him more than a little. 

“If I was an idiot and wanted to lose you I would use this to do something very stupid,” he says, and he motions for Rhett to open his hand. He does and the ring is cold as it lands in his palm. Link beams when Rhett closes his fingers around it. 

“Like what?” 

“I just like the way rings look on you,” he says instead of answering. Rhett gets the feeling he knows what Link meant, anyway. “But all of your rings are silver. So I got you one that wasn’t. You don’t have to wear it, not if you’re half as scared as you look. But don’t get rid of it just because you’re scared. You might like it.” Rhett doesn’t hear half of what he’s saying, hands shaking as he squeezes the ring in his palm. Link’s too much, same as always. Too much too soon and he might actually throw up on the living room sofa with Ryan Seacrest on TV. 

Link touches one finger to Rhett’s chin and he looks up at him. If he wasn’t so open, so pretty, so eager as he smiles this would be easier. But Rhett’s tired to his bones and he can’t think of anything to say. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

“Nope,” Rhett replies.

“Stevie said…” Link catches himself, his eyes dropping down, but he finishes his sentence. “Stevie said you might try to jump out the window if I gave you this. You’re not thinking about doing that, are you?”

“She…she knew me better than anyone, Link.”

“It’s a piece of gold,” Link says. “Metal from the bottom of the sea, metal crabs have walked over. It doesn’t mean as much as you think it does.” 

“It means an awful lot, Link.”

“Only if you want it to.” Rhett decides right away and tells him he doesn’t. “So it doesn’t mean a thing. I told you, honey, I like the way you look with a ring on your finger. That’s all. Do you need me to take it back? Tell me what you want instead and it’s yours.” Rhett might be the biggest idiot in the world but his fingers tighten around the ring and Link catches him. “You can keep it,” he says. “You never know. Someday you might fall in love and find someone you want to gift it to. I promise I wouldn’t hold it against you.” Everything Rhett knows about him tells him he would but it’s okay. It’s all right. 

“You’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met,” Rhett tells him. Rhett opens up his hand and watches the ring glisten for a moment. “Listen,” he says. “What did you say next? When Stevie said I would jump out the window.” 

“I said she was underestimating you.”

“She must have loved that.”

“She didn’t, actually. Harsh words were exchanged. She called me a doughnut.” Rhett laughs, the sound catching him off guard, and Link chuckles with him. But it’s ten minutes until midnight and a new year looms dark over him. Link darkens, too, and when he speaks next his voice is somber. “I’m going to kill them, Rhett,” he says. “I hope you know I’m not just going to sit here forever. I’m going to kill each and every one of them no matter what I have to do. Okay?” Rhett looks up at him and changes his mind, looking away to the ring in his hands. He slides it onto his middle finger just for now, just for safekeeping, and he wants to say okay. He wants to tell Link to go and to kill them and to let Rhett come along with him. He wants them to pay and he wants to be the one to kill them. 

But if he loses Link he loses everything. He’s all Rhett has left, the vampire sitting across the sofa from him with the hope of a future gleaming behind his eyes. Rhett can’t let him go.

“Please don’t,” Rhett says, and it’s all he gets out before he chokes on nothing and goes quiet.

“You don’t want me to go after them?” There are five minutes to midnight and Rhett doesn’t want to think about a new year, a year starting with the loss of Stevie. But it’s coming and Link expects an answer and he knows what Stevie would say. She would tell Rhett he has to make Link stay. She wouldn’t want Rhett to lose him. Would she? 

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he manages to reply. Rhett can’t look at him. He can’t.

“It would be worth it if I could get revenge for what they did. They killed her to show off, Rhett. You don’t want them to pay for that?”

“More than anything.” He thinks of Link lying as motionless as Stevie did and he amends, “Almost anything.” 

“Look at me, will you?” 

“I’d rather not.” Four minutes to go. Someone is setting off fireworks a few minutes early, a head start. Rhett watches them explode outside his window in shades of red and blue and when he looks back at his hands he sees shadows of the light. 

“You’re scared I’m not going to make it, then?” Link asks. He nods. “Why are you so scared to lose me? You already lost the person you love the most. I’m not anything compared to Stevie.” Rhett looks up so sharply he catches Link by surprise.

“After what I said to you,” Rhett says, Link’s lips falling open. “After I told you what you mean to me? How can you… _Link_. Christ, how can you _say_ that?”

He blinks for a moment and he remembers. “You said I was everything.”

“I did.” 

“Why did you say that?”

“Because I’m too scared to say what I should.” 

“Which is?” There is one minute to go now, one minute to another year, and Rhett is done with this conversation. He’s not having this; he’s not in the mood to admit anything. Link’s already made up his mind. He’s going after them. Fine. But Rhett wants nothing to do with it.

“Fuck off,” is what Rhett tells him, and he misses the countdown as he tumbles face first into bed. His next breath starts in one year and ends in another. He’s not as drunk as he wants to be and he wills his brain to be as tired as his body. But when Link turns the lights out and crawls into bed with him he’s still wide awake. 

“Do you want to be left alone, Rhett?” he asks. Rhett can’t see him in the dark and he’s glad. He just wishes Link couldn’t see him.

“No,” Rhett replies. 

“Can I hold you?”

“Yes.” Link curls up at his back, one arm draped around Rhett’s middle, and he plants a kiss into Rhett’s hair. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

“What for?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect Stevie. And I don’t know how much longer I can protect you.” His voice breaks on the last word and he presses his nose into Rhett’s hair, a deep sigh shaking him. “So I have no choice,” he says. “I have to get to them before they get to you.” He releases Rhett when he rolls over, turning to face him and pressing his forehead to Link’s. Their noses brush together, their lips, and Rhett tells him not to go. He thinks he comes close to begging. He touches his lips to Link’s again and again, not quite kissing him, and with both hands he cards through Link’s hair.

“I can’t lose you,” he’s pretty sure he says, and he’s pretty sure Link is going to start crying if he does. But he’s not. He’s just stating a fact, isn’t he? Link is a vampire, Link is all he has left. And Rhett can’t lose him. 

“I’m going to come back alive,” Link says. 

“You don’t really believe that. You would have left already. You would have.” Link catches one of Rhett’s hands and cradles it, stroking at the back of his hand with his fingertips. He kisses Rhett, lips soft, and he pulls back. 

“I’m going to come back to you,” he says. “Because of you I’m going to come back alive.”

“Because…because of me?”

“Yes,” Link says. He takes Rhett’s hand and presses it to his cheek, Rhett’s palm cupping the side of his face. With his thumb Rhett strokes a slow circle across Link’s cheekbone and he leans, mouth twitching up, into the touch. “If I went tearing after them right when I wanted to, right when I saw Stevie in the street, they would have killed me. If I had gone to them angry they would have had the upper hand. But you were here and you needed me and you gave me the chance to think. I’ve been thinking all week, Rhett, and I am not going out there blind. And I am going to come back alive.” He kisses Rhett and he’s too tired, too scared to kiss him back. But he kisses him again and this time Rhett manages. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Link says. He kisses Rhett. “Don’t worry.” He kisses him again. “I’ll be fine. I’ll come back to you and I won’t leave you again if that’s what you want.”

“Christ, that’s what I want,” Rhett says, and Link beams in the dark. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you idiot. Yeah, that’s what I want.” He’s admitting something, he’s broken the dam, but Link’s leaving him and what the fuck does it matter? He’s admitted something just in time to lose him, to have him walk away. Rhett’s the idiot, not the man biting at his lips and humming his name. Link bites hungry kisses into Rhett’s mouth, then his jaw, then his throat. Rhett’s going to have bruises for his first days back at work and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He arches his back up into Link’s touch, his hands as hungry as his mouth, and he knows. He knows Rhett said it all, he must, and he smiles into Rhett’s skin. 

“Tell me,” Rhett breathes, hands sliding down Link’s back, “tell me how you’re going to do it.” Link chuckles, his tongue hot on Rhett’s throat, and he says,

“I’m going in the daytime. In the morning. They won’t expect me then.” Rhett’s breath hitches as Link bites down behind his ear, his teeth sharp. Rhett’s whole body moves with him. He can’t lose him. 

“And then?” he asks. 

“I’m going to get in and I am going in with silver stakes. It’s not going to be easy. I’m not…sorry.” He bites too hard at Rhett’s collarbone and he whimpers, the pain shaking him. Rhett tells him it’s all right. It is. “I’m not going to pretend it will be easy. It won’t. I might come back mortally wounded but I promise to come back alive.”

“You…” Rhett tries. His mouth is too hot and too good and Rhett has trouble with his sticky throat. “You heal fast, right?” Rhett asks. “You’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be okay no matter what they throw at me,” he promises. As he speaks his hands rove, exploring Rhett’s hips, his thighs. “They can try to burn me alive and I will still come back to you.”

“Link…”

“Mmm?” 

“Let me come with you.” Link’s icy hands freeze over Rhett’s chest.

“No.”

“What if I can help?”

“You can’t.”

“Have you ever had a human sidekick before?”

“Oh, stop. You know you’re too stubborn to be any man’s sidekick.”

“Hey!” Rhett protests. Link tries to reel him back in, his hands sliding to massage at Rhett’s thighs, but it only works for a moment. Rhett can’t lose him, that’s all. Maybe Link could use him. It’s a last ditch effort but one he needs to work. “I could be bait,” Rhett tries, and Link hisses a sharp breath like a coiled up snake. He’s going to strike and it’s not going to go well for Rhett. “Okay, maybe not. I could be lookout.”

“No,” Link says. “I want you to stay at my place while I’m gone, Rhett, while we’re discussing where I’m going and you’re sitting here and trying to give me ulcers.” 

“Why?” Rhett asks. Link still holds him, gentle and cool, and he wants to lounge in Link’s arms and kiss him until his mouth is raw. But now he doesn’t have the time. Now he’s trying to save their lives and Rhett has to try and let him. 

“It’s safer there,” he says. “Better security and a bellman. Anyone who comes after you would have to get invited in by him. So I want you there. Can you do that one, tiny thing for me? Please?” Rhett thinks of all the corners of this apartment he’s been trying to hide from and he nods. It’s hard to be here and Link knows it, too, finding Stevie in her books in the living room and her toothbrush still in the bathroom. Maybe time away would be good for Rhett. So he nods again, nodding until Link puts a hand on the top of his head and tells him he looks like a bobble head.

“I’m just trying to convince myself,” Rhett says, finding Link under the covers on his bed and squeezing. 

“Of what?” he asks, his breath hitching in his throat. 

“That this is the right choice,” Rhett says. 

“Name a better choice and I will make it,” he replies. 

“Stay with me.” Rhett touches him everywhere he can reach, Rhett’s hand sliding up and down Link’s body, his hips rolling with the motion of Rhett’s fingers. And he can’t offer him much but he has this, and this is what he’s going to give.

 

In the morning, the first day of a new year, Link wakes Rhett with his hands tangled up in his hair, and he tells Rhett he has to go. 

“Pack a bag, baby,” Link says, “and I’ll give you the grand tour of my place. You never know. Once I come back you might decide to stay.” 

“Maybe,” Rhett replies, and the admission makes the sharp lines of Link’s face go soft. He kisses Link and Link kisses him, pressing close as he can.

“I have to go,” Link says, and Rhett tells him not just yet. “I really, really have to go.”

“Later,” Rhett replies. “Later, Link, later.” His mouth opens obediently as Rhett runs his tongue along his lower lip, tugging it between his teeth. 

“Rhett…” he says. 

“ _What_?”

“I have to leave. If you don’t let me go now I might never make it out of this bed.”

“Good,” Rhett replies. He kisses him. “We can make love again and again. All day, in every room of this apartment. What do you say? Stay.” Link sighs, his arm curling tight around Rhett, and he’s getting ready to say goodbye. The next thing he says is one of the last. “You have no choice, you know,” he says as Link slides out of bed and searches the floor for his clothes. 

“No choice regarding what?”

“You have to come back to me. No finding another vampire in the world somewhere, one who is better looking and smarter and less mortal than me.”

“Rhett, you are the best looking person on this planet.” Link gives him a sideways glance as he leans on the wall to pull on his socks, the first thing he could find. Rhett watches the way his muscles move as he looks at Rhett and he smiles, sly, when he catches him. “Besides me,” he says. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“You’re cute when you’re grasping at straws to make me angry,” he replies. He finds his underwear under a pile of Rhett’s and pulls them on, a sight to see in his mismatched and lopsided socks. 

“Why would I do that?” Link takes a break from searching for his pants to reach for Rhett. He sees them right behind the bedroom door but he doesn’t say anything. He wants all the time he can get. Link brushes Rhett’s hair back with one hand and tells him,

“You look ridiculously good with such messy hair.” Rhett tries to bite his hand as he trails his fingers down Rhett’s jaw and he presses them to his lips to quiet him. “I love you,” he says. “Let me say it. I love you. If I don’t come back, don’t forget that.”

“You’re the worst.” This is the hardest part, waiting for him to leave, and both of them are doing their best to drag it out. But Rhett has to admit he’s doing it for a reason. He’s going to miss him. 

“I know I am,” he says, and his eyes light up when he finally finds his jeans. The only thing he can’t find is his T-shirt and that’s because Rhett is lying on it. He’s not going to tell him that anytime soon. 

“I’ll just wear one of yours,” he says. Rhett is taller than him, a lot taller, and where Link is lean Rhett is stocky. He tells Link so and he shrugs, hunting through Rhett’s clothes for something he likes. “I just want something that smells like you,” he says. “For when I head into battle.”

“Shut up,” Rhett says. “You’re no warrior.” 

“No?” Link asks, finding an old suitcase in his search for a shirt and tossing it close to Rhett. “Pack up, please,” he says. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. But I’ll hurry back as fast as I can. It shouldn’t be more than a few days.” Rhett’s tired and he doesn’t want to do it but Link kicks the bag closer and Rhett rolls out of bed, head spinning as he rises. Five minutes later he’s ready to go and Link stands searching, shirtless, in his bedroom. Rhett watches him from the door of his room and he can’t quite tell what he’s doing, searching through Rhett’s clothes and tossing shirts aside. When he asks him he shrugs. 

“I’m trying to find one that smells the most like you,” he says. “The one you’ve worn the most. I want as much of you as I can take with me.” Rhett pretends to throw up, the things he said to him easier to forget when he’s not lying in Link’s arms, and he looks up at Rhett. “Want to help?” he asks. 

“All right.” Rhett goes into his dresser, digging into the very back, and he comes out with a T-shirt he got at a concert when he was seventeen. It’s always been snug on him and it fits Link well, his chest filling it out and the hem falling just to the top of his jeans. When he shrugs it rides up, the red fabric lifting to show a pale slice of hip, and if Rhett wasn’t so tired or so scared he might get on his knees and bite it.

Link looks at Rhett and Rhett looks at him and before Rhett can say anything else he vanishes. He follows Link to the front door and he follows him outside and he follows Link’s car to his place. Link lets him in and he peels the key from his key ring and slips it onto Rhett’s, shutting them into the apartment for a moment with his back pressed to the door. 

“I love you,” he says. 

"Shut _up_ ,” Rhett replies. “You’re only saying it because you think you won’t come back.”

“If I come back alive I want you to marry me,” Link says, and he laughs so hard he falls on his ass when Rhett reacts with horror. He would think Link would be used to it by now, the way he recoils at the first sign of something more than this. But he laughs for a long time, clutching his chest and trying more than once to get up. He keeps sliding back down on his ass and in the end Rhett joins him on the floor, wiping tears of mirth from Link’s cheeks with his thumbs.

“I’ll come back,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of Rhett’s hand. “I’ll come back and you will be so happy to see me you’ll admit you’ve been madly in love with me this entire time. You’ll fall into my arms and beg me to take you to…”

Rhett shuts him up with a kiss and then another, pressing Link up against the door. 

“The sooner you get out of here the sooner you’ll be back,” Rhett says, and Link grows somber as he nods. 

“Okay,” he says. “I’m leaving.” He stands and he waits and Rhett doesn’t know what he’s waiting for. There’s a hole in the sleeve of the T-shirt he wears and Rhett sticks his finger in it, making him laugh and squirm away. He digs through his closet and picks a leather jacket, one Rhett hasn’t seen before, and he says it makes him feel tough. 

“Whatever helps,” Rhett teases, gathering up the front of his T-shirt in his hand and dragging Link to him. Rhett kisses him and he kisses him hard, Link smiling against his lips, and maybe this is what love is. Rhett feels stupid with it, consumed, and he doesn’t know if he likes how it feels. It’s heavy and hot and maybe he doesn’t know anything at all. Maybe this is something he has never felt before. All he knows is Link is his and he is all he has and Link has one foot out the door. 

“What are you doing?” Link asks when Rhett lets him up for air. 

“I’m memorizing the way you taste,” he replies. “Just in case.”

“Don’t say that.” 

“What should I say?” 

“What you mean.” 

“You have to come back.”

“Done.” Link pulls away and Rhett groans. This hurts too much already. Who needs love, anyway? People ask for this? Link brushes Rhett’s hair back and looks at him with such warmth he thinks he could melt away. “I love you,” he says. “God, I love you.”

“I…” Link opens the door and this is Rhett’s last chance, the last second. He expects something from Rhett, his eyes shining. But he deflates. “I know,” Rhett says. Link recovers quickly and surges forward to press his soft lips to Rhett’s.

“Love you, love you,” he coos, voice sweet, and he presses a kiss to Rhett’s cheek. 

“I _know_ , Link.”

“I love you. I’ll see you soon.” Link touches Rhett’s hand, his fingers icy, and then he pulls away. “Bye, Rhett.” As long as he delays it he has to go sooner or later. Rhett knows it. So does he. 

“Bye,” Rhett replies. He’s out in the hall, Rhett’s standing in the doorway of his place, and Link’s leaving. 

“If anything happens…” 

“It won’t,” Rhett interrupts. 

“Call me,” he says anyway. Rhett tells him he will and Link lingers, blue eyes burning him, and why do people like this? Why is love the end all be all of a life well lived? There is nothing good in this, nothing nice Rhett wants to keep with him. This hurts, this _aches_ , and Link backs away. “Love you,” he says, and that’s it. He leaves. Rhett closes the door behind him and he locks it and he dashes to the window in time to watch Link peel out of the parking lot in his stupid flashy car. 

People enjoy this. People yearn for this, for this or something like it. And Rhett wants it to go away. He watches Link drive away and he closes the curtains. He dives into Link’s bed, under the bearskin duvet, and his bed smells like him. Woody and warm and like cinnamon, something heated and sweet. Rhett throws the covers over his head and doesn’t say a word for the rest of the week. 

 

School starts back up and Link hasn’t come back. It’s only been a few days, not long enough to worry, but it’s hard to drive to school and harder to head to class all alone. Rhett has no girl with paint in her hair to greet him, no perky and beaming best friend to pass him coffee and tell him he needs to brush his hair, for Christ’s sake. He has no friends at all, no Stevie and no Link, and the teachers who greet him give him a wide berth afterwards. They know what happened, they know what Stevie meant to him, but it doesn’t make their avoidance of him any easier to handle. He gets his own coffee in the teacher’s lounge and fends off a sympathetic smile from a sub, a teacher he’s seen but can’t place. 

“I’m going to be teaching art,” the woman says, fiddling with the end of her long brown ponytail. “You’re the drama teacher, right?”

“Yes,” he replies over the open bowl of sugar. He pours five teaspoons of sugar into his coffee and Stevie’s replacement watches him, eyes wide. _Here it comes_ he thinks right before it does. 

“I’m so sorry,” she blurts. “I heard she was your best friend.”

“She was,” Rhett says before she can say anything else. He doesn’t want to hear it. “I don’t want to talk about her. It was nice to meet you.”

“Andrea,” she says. “Ms. Wallace. Andi. Whatever you prefer.” 

“Right,” Rhett says, and he doesn’t care if she thinks he’s an asshole. He is. He walks away and hides in his classroom, clutching his coffee like a life jacket until his first class begins to file in. He can do this. He knows he can. As the day goes on his collection of cards grows, cards with flowers on them in pastel shades, cards that say a million different variations of _sorry your best friend is dead_. He gets plants and fruit baskets and homemade bread, teachers and students piling things on his desk until they tip over and helping Rhett scramble to pick them up. It’s nice, he supposes, to get the full scope of everyone Stevie touched, but it doesn’t help. He feels sick by the end of the day, heavy and sad and lonely. He grades a quiz on _Twelfth Night_ he should have graded before break, popping grapes with his back teeth he got in a fruit basket from the school’s secretaries. He’s dreading going home alone when someone knocks at his door. He looks up to see a dozen someones and his heart rises up into his throat.

“Hey,” he manages, dropping his pen to greet the cast of the defunct Beauty and the Beast. “Hi, guys, what’s up?” He saw some of them in his classes but none of them came up to him, some of the few who said nothing at all. They’re the only ones who know, he supposes, he would rather be left alone. But they’re here now. 

“We were thinking,” Amelia says. 

“Never a good thing,” Rhett replies when she doesn’t go on. 

“We were thinking we want to do auditions today,” she says. “For the spring play. We want to do Grease. We pretty much already decided for you. We practiced lines all break, Mr. M., all of us together, and we thought it’d be fun. Something we can all do together. You know. Something we might need.” She goes quiet and Rhett sits, stunned, all eyes on him.

He doesn’t know how they always surprise him.

“We wanted to take our minds off of…off of things,” Robbie adds, and Rhett looks up at him. That’s right, Robbie has lost someone just like he has, and Rhett nods. Okay. All right. 

“And we thought you could use the distraction, too,” Heather pipes in, standing on her tiptoes behind Robbie. Rhett doesn’t know what to say that won’t make him cry in front of them so instead of saying anything he locks up his room and leads them to the auditorium. It’s just the same as how he left it and for a moment he freezes in the doorway, the sets Stevie helped him paint still up in the back of the stage. Beast’s castle is just how he saw it last and for a beat he can’t move. But Heather sees him lose his footing and she tugs his sleeve, pulling him along into the auditorium. 

“I’m auditioning for Rizzo,” Heather says, babbling as if to keep Rhett from realizing what’s going on and running. Link does the same thing. Or he did, anyway. Rhett doesn’t know what to say anymore. “I think I was born to play her. She’s a lot more static than Sandy, in my _humble_ opinion,” she says, and Amelia tells her Sandy is plenty static. They bicker playfully as Heather plunks Rhett down in his seat in the audience and there are usually two bodies with him, one on each side. He doesn’t have time to miss them now. Heather plants a script in his hand and she and the other kids climb up onstage, helping one another up until they all stand together. 

“Where would you like us to start?” Heather asks. There are new faces here, freshman Rhett has never seen, and the main cast of Beauty and the Beast stands with them. Rhett doesn’t know where to start, he has no idea, and Heather says they highlighted in the script the parts they want to use for auditions and he flips through it. He doesn’t even have time to feel dazed, they keep him so in awe, and he finally finds a section highlighted in pink and shows it to Heather. 

“Ah,” she says. “Who’s auditioning for the Pink Ladies? You’re up first.” After that it’s a whirlwind; halfway through the first round of auditions Rhett has to frantically signal for a pen from the waiting cast members. He jots down notes and flips through the script, slicing his finger up more than once in his haste. Amelia brings him Band-Aids from the first aid kit backstage and by the time Robbie and Amelia, Rhett’s perfect romantic leads, are singing _Summer Nights_ he has more fingers with bandages than without. Rhett’s familiar and unfamiliar hopefuls alike are enthralled, enraptured by Robbie and Amelia, and Rhett knows he’s going to cast them before they even finish the song. They deserve their chance, after all, to show the city what they’re made of before they graduate. 

Robbie stops the big song just before the end and he holds his hands out, saying, “Wait, wait, wait! I have to get into character!” And Amelia waits, bemused, while Robbie spits in his hands and rakes his hair back, combing his hair high and tucking it behind his ears. He pops up the collar of his jacket and cocks one hip out and when he whistles the boys auditioning for his entourage flock to his side. They lounge at his feet, Adam propping one arm up on Robbie’s shoulder, and Robbie says,

“Okay. Sorry, Amelia, go on.” And she does. She and Robbie hit their high notes and Rhett drops his head into his hands, the song ending and the room going quiet. Robbie is the first to ask Rhett if he’s okay and all he can do is nod. 

“Yup,” he croaks. “Fine.” He’s just recovering from the biggest loss he’s ever endured, that’s all. He’s just dreading the thought of going home to an empty apartment, one that’s not his. That’s all. He’s only horrified by the amount of cards and flowers he has to drag home, stuffing into the backseat of his car. That’s all. 

He should have known his kids would be the ones to come through for him. He’s crying hard before the first of his students even hit the floor and by the time he drags in a painful, shaking breath they’re on him, two dozen limbs and a million words of comfort. 

“I know, Mr. M., I miss her too,” Adam says, just because he knows. They all know. 

“You’ll be okay, Mr. M., we’re here for you…”

“Do you want me to get the school nurse? I think she’s still here for basketball practice…”

“Mr. M., please don’t cry, I can’t take it…” Amelia has tissues coming from Rhett doesn’t know where and she presses them to his face, dabbing at his cheeks until he takes them from her and does his best to stem the flow. And this is pathetic, isn’t it, the teacher crying his eyes out in the middle of auditions? He knows it is without asking. But the kids are here and he’s not alone, not when he really thought he was, and he barks a sob that sends half the cast jumping out of their skins away from him.

“Do you want us to go, Mr. M.?” Heather asks, and he shakes his head. He tries to get control of himself, embarrassed and sad and lost, and Ian is the one to break the spell. 

“You know,” he says, “I can just imagine all the teasing you’d be getting from Ms. Levine right now. If she was here.” Rhett looks up at him and Amelia punches him, horrified, but he’s right. 

“She would probably call you a doorknob,” Oliver agrees. 

“No, no, she never said doorknob,” Manny corrects. “She always said doughnut.”

“Oh, duh,” Oliver says. “Yeah, she’d call you a doughnut.”

“She called me that once,” Heather says, sitting down at Rhett’s side. Amelia tumbles into her lap and the rest of the students sit with them, plunking down in tandem on the floor and in the front row of the audience. “I forgot my clay thingy in the kiln and I almost set it on fire. She was nice like that. Any other teacher would have screamed their head off at me. But she just called me a doughnut and she didn’t even make me stay late to help her clean it. I wanted to.” 

“She saved my ass last year,” Amelia says, her head on Heather’s shoulder. Her eyes are far away, the same look she gets when she’s onstage, and she says, “I was failing calculus and she had this talk with my teacher. I don’t even know what she said but I got to use my notes on the final and I ended up passing the class.”

“She was good like that,” Ian nods. “She always looked out for us.”

“I was looking forward to what she was going to make fun of me for when I asked her to sign my yearbook,” Adam says. “She didn’t have much patience for me. She said I could be a really good painter if only I stopped pretending I wasn’t interested. She had me down pat, Mr. M. She really did.” 

Rhett dries his eyes and his kids tell stories, Amelia passing out tissues from the pockets of her coat as people need them. Rhett blows his nose and the kids laugh, startled into silence for a moment by the sound. The kids need to go home and he tells them so, the students groaning, but they pick themselves up and arrange for their rides and one by one they leave him.

“You’re in this play, right, Mr. McLaughlin?” Amelia asks as she heads for the door. “I know you might not want to do it. But we need it.” She pauses, her lip between her teeth, and she adds, “I need it.”

“I do, too,” he assures her. And he does. Trevor, formerly Maurice and currently the shoe in for Putzie, is the last out the door. 

“Mr. M., can I ask you something?” he says as Rhett locks up.

“What is it?”

“Where’s Link?” Rhett looks at him, trying to decide if he should tell him the truth, but one glance is enough to tell him he wants the same thing Rhett does. He wants to know who killed Stevie and he wants them to pay. So Rhett tells him.

“He’s going after them,” he says. “The people who killed Stevie.” Trevor’s eyes go wide.

“Is he going to get them?”

“I don’t know. I hope so, Trev. That’s all I can say.” Trevor thinks for a moment as he heads out with Rhett towards their cars. 

“I think he’ll get them,” he decides. “There’s no way he won’t get them.”

“Thank you, Trev,” Rhett says, and it’s the last thing he says all day. He nods to the bellman at the door of Link’s building and he nods to the couple he sees wandering the hall. He slips into Link’s place and he should have expected Link to not have any food. But Rhett’s starving and the place is barren and he orders a pizza online just to avoid speaking to anyone. The less he talks the less he has to pretend to be all right, just a normal guy living a normal little life. He nods to the delivery driver and he locks the door behind him and the rest of the night he spends in front of the TV, gnawing on pizza long after it gets cold. 

It’s been three days since Link left and Rhett wishes he didn’t miss him like he’d miss a hand. He wants to call him, to check up on him, but he doesn’t. What if he didn’t answer? Rhett would worry and he would conjure up all sorts of horrible things that could have happened. No, it’s better just to wait. His heart couldn’t take it, his call going to voicemail. But the longer he waits the more he misses his voice and he doesn’t know when he got in this deep but he’s too deep to back out now. He’s in it and if he’s admitting he misses him he might as well take the next step.

It takes Rhett almost an hour to work up the courage to find Link’s name in his contacts. It takes another ten minutes to actually dial the number and hold the phone to his ear. 

The phone rings once, twice, three times. Rhett’s heart is in his throat and he’s going to throw up; he’s going to die if Link doesn’t answer. He probably already has ulcers, worry hot in the pit of his stomach, and on the fourth ring Link picks up. 

“Honey,” he says, and that’s all Rhett needs. His voice is just the same, like velvet, like molasses, slow and heavy and sweet. Rhett sinks into Link’s living room sofa and closes his eyes. 

“Link,” he replies.

“Is something wrong?” 

“No,” Rhett says, and he hears Link breathe a sigh of relief on the other line. “I just…”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Rhett’s hand is too shaky on the phone, his resolve too shaky right along with it, but Link asks him to say what he’s thinking. He waits and Rhett misses him; he misses him terribly and he keeps his eyes shut as he tells him. “Miss you,” he says. “That’s all.” Link is quiet for a moment and Rhett can see the way he smiles, like he’s got Rhett, like he’s his. Funny how it doesn’t scare him anymore. 

“I miss you too, honey,” he says. 

“You’re alive,” Rhett replies, like he doesn’t know. 

“I am.”

“What are you…where are you…when will you…” He starts and stops question after question, unsure which he wants answered first. Link chooses for him.

“I’m okay,” he says. “I haven’t tracked them down just yet. They’ve moved the whole clan. My guess is they’re having the time of their lives watching me fight my way to them. I’ll find them, though. Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Rhett says, “about that. Just you.” The dam is broken and he’s going to keep admitting things, a sinner drunk before a pastor, and everything is going to come spilling out of him. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t mind. 

“I was worried about you, too,” Link says, and this is too much. Rhett slides down on the couch and falls off, landing on the carpet and rolling onto his back. This is way too much. 

“Then why did I have to call you first?” he asks.

“I thought it might scare you,” he replies. “I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“You could never,” Rhett says before he can shut himself up. He claps a hand over his mouth but it’s out there, it’s all right, and Link smiles. He can hear it in his voice. 

“That’s sweet of you,” he says. “In that case, I’ll admit I replaced a pillow case with your shirt today.” Rhett laughs and Link laughs with him, Rhett’s back on the carpet and Link’s voice in his ear.

“You’re pining for me, aren’t you?” Rhett asks. 

“Yes,” he admits. 

“Sucker,” Rhett replies. 

“Only for you.” There’s a moment of silence and this is too much; Rhett’s flat on his back talking like a lovesick teenager. And Link has him. Without a doubt Link has him. 

“Anyway, that’s all I wanted. To hear your voice. So. Thanks for picking up.”

“My pleasure,” Link replies. He’s so smug. If he was here Rhett would wipe the smirk off his face with a well-placed kiss but he’s not. Rhett’s here all alone. 

“Bye,” Rhett says, and Link tells him to call if he misses him again. “Unlikely,” Rhett says. “I’ve gotten my fill. Goodbye, Link.”

“Love you,” he says, and Rhett hangs up. He tosses the phone aside and he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, pressing back tears. What he doesn’t hold back is the scream bubbling up in him. Up here on the top of the world Rhett gets the feeling no one will hear him. So he lets it rip from him, hot and loud, and he screams until he runs out of air. The scream bottoms out into a snarl and then a whimper and there’s no reason to be crying. None at all. But Stevie isn’t here and if she was she would be the only one to tell Rhett he’s acting crazy. He’s letting himself sink too far. But she isn’t here and part of Rhett thinks she wouldn’t really be so mean if she was. She loved Rhett and she might even make him call Link back and tell him the truth. But she isn’t here and she never will be again and without someone to pull Rhett back he falls asleep on the floor. He wakes up in the middle of the night and crawls into Link’s bed, tired and lonely, and of course it smells like him. And maybe Link’s not the sappy one for sleeping with Rhett’s T-shirt. He buries himself in his blankets and tries to fall asleep alone.

One thing he’ll never tell him is how much easier it is to fall asleep when Link’s here with him. 

 

Rhett wakes up in the middle of the night on Link’s fourth night away. It takes him a moment to realize why he’s awake but a pebble tapping his window gives him an idea. He rolls out of bed, Link’s bearskin comforter draped across his shoulders like a cape, and it’s a familiar face down below. It’s the same vampire who warned Stevie and him, the same one who told them Link was going to be the death of them. He flings open the window and tells him to fuck off. 

“I’m not in the mood,” he shouts down at the pointy faced old vampire. Even from up here he can see his teeth flashing under the streetlights. 

“Mind if I come up?” the vampire asks, and Rhett wishes he could remember his name so he could spit it down at him. 

“Sure thing,” he says. “You just can’t come into the apartment. But climb the fuck up here all you want, go ahead.” Rhett turns away from the window the moment he disappears into the building and by the time Rhett tugs the comforter tighter around himself and turns towards the living room he’s already rapping at the door. Rhett can’t find the silver dagger Link left him but with the door between them he doesn’t really care. Rhett’s not scared of him. Not tonight. He leans on the door and asks him what it is he wants. 

“Besides your boyfriend’s throat beneath my boot?” the vampire rasps. Rhett rolls his eyes.

“Besides that, you smug fuck.”

“I want you to open the door so I can eat you alive.”

“Hmm,” Rhett says. “Tempting, but no dice. I prefer to be alive, believe it or not.” 

“I can smell you through the door, you know,” the vampire says. “You smell delicious. What I wouldn’t give to sink my teeth into your throat…”

“Is there a reason you’re here?” Rhett interrupts. He’s tired and not feeling up to this, not right now, and Link is far away and he is on his own. If he could find his dagger he would let him in. He would face him. But he has nothing and he won’t give the vampire the satisfaction of ending him. Not tonight, anyway. Not when he’s alone.

“I’m just bored,” he says. “Bored and looking for a fight. If you are not going to give me one I suppose I will be on my way.” 

“A fight?” Rhett scoffs. “Why pick one with me?”

“Because there are not many people who know I exist,” he says, the sound of fingernails scraping against Link’s front door jarring Rhett away from the wood. “And all the vampires in the city are gone, off waiting for your boyfriend to walk right into them.” The scraping stops and Rhett leans back on the door, shivering even under Link’s heavy duvet. 

“And what’s gonna happen to him when he does?” Rhett asks. 

“He’s going to get his pretty face torn off,” the man replies. “I’m sure my clan will be happy to make it nice and slow. Make him an example. You can’t keep a clan out of a city they have claimed for centuries. It was incredibly naïve of Mr. Neal to think he could keep us away because he willed it. And he is going to pay and so are you. Funny, is it not? This whole thing could have been avoided if your idiotic boyfriend was not so horrifically stubborn.” 

“You talk a lot of shit for a guy who can’t touch me,” Rhett says. “You wouldn’t be talking like that if I let you in.” 

“Is that a risk you are willing to take?” the vampire asks, and what the hell. What the hell. Rhett pushes away from the door and drops the duvet in the living room, padding in his pajamas to the bedroom. His knife is in here somewhere and he can do this; he can fight him. Why the hell not? He can try. He finds the dagger under Link’s mattress and scoops it into his hand. The vampire is still there when he makes it back to the living room; Rhett can hear him breathing in the hall.

“I’m bored, too,” Rhett tells him, and he may be wearing his Simpsons pajama bottoms but he’s not as young and fragile as he probably seems. He might be shaking but he’s not going to hide behind Link. Not tonight. Not anymore. “Come in.”

He does. 

The door splinters from the force with which he kicks it open, slivers of wood hitting Rhett as he goes. Rhett’s ready but not ready enough. The vampire snarls, spit shining on his exposed teeth, and he slams Rhett to the floor by his shoulders. The front door hangs open and the last thing Rhett sees before cold hands close over his throat is the empty hall. He squeezes Rhett’s throat and he chokes, gasping hard for air, but Rhett has the dagger in his hand and he shoves it up with all his might. 

The vampire hisses, his hands vanishing as they go for the fresh hole in his gut. 

“What was your name again?” Rhett asks. He sits up and he sees stars, the vampire frowning as dark blood slips through his fingers. “I’m sorry you’re not so memorable.”

“Henry,” the vampire snarls, and Rhett nods.

“Ah, that’s right. Hurts, doesn’t it, Henry?” The vampire clutches his stomach and Rhett wipes his blade on his pants, smearing scarlet blood across Homer Simpson’s face. Henry opens and closes his mouth like a fish, the wound in his stomach smoking, and he snarls. Rhett’s made him mad. Good thing he’s infuriated Rhett. He lunges for Rhett and he rolls away, tightening his hold on the silver dagger just in time for Henry to try and swipe it from his fingers. 

“Where did you…get that?” he asks. He rises to his feet and Rhett does, too, the two of them staring across the living room. Rhett’s not scared of him. He’s just another man, another person who is just as vulnerable as him. He can do this. 

“Do you like it?” Rhett asks. “My stubborn, idiotic vampire boyfriend gave it to me.” Anger darkens Henry’s face and again he snarls, lunging for Rhett and missing. The wound Rhett gave him slows him down and he follows Rhett, moving like a snail, when he starts to back up into the kitchen. Still the front door is open and if someone were to walk by Rhett would have a lot of explaining to do. Blood paints the floor as Henry inches towards Rhett, both hands clutching at his torso. 

“He is going to pay dearly for betraying his own kind,” Henry says. He makes a move for Rhett and manages to grab his shoulder, tearing the skin with his fingernails before he manages to pull away. It hurts, stinging, but not enough to make it hard to pretend it doesn’t. “I might even personally take care of him,” Henry says. “I will start by bringing him the news that I have killed you. Then I will cut pieces from him, bit by bit, working my way to his heart, and I will wait for him to beg for mercy before I cut it from his chest. What do you think?” He smirks, the same confident smirk Link wears, but on Henry it looks like a grimace. 

“I think you’re all talk,” Rhett replies. “Considering I won’t let you leave this room alive.” Again Henry lunges for him and this time he lets go of his stomach, both bloody hands closing over Rhett’s shoulders. He jerks Rhett close to him, Rhett’s neck cracking loud, and when he drags Rhett to his chest he watches the corners of his vision go dark. “Ow,” he says, and Henry smiles. 

“You will be saying a lot more than _ow_ when I am done with you,” he says. 

“Christ, do you ever shut up?” Rhett asks. He gets one more chance at the vampire, at his exposed skin, and he howls when Rhett sinks the dagger into his chest. Rhett gets him on the wrong side, away from his heart. He roars as he pushes Rhett away. The dagger sticks in his chest and Rhett hits the floor, scrambling backwards as the vampire wraps one hand around it. He breathes hard and he pretends well but he’s in agony, pain marring his face, as he yanks the silver knife from his chest. 

“Shit,” Rhett says, and he wastes no time straddling Rhett’s hips and slamming his head into the floor. The kitchen goes foggy for a moment but it comes back fast as Henry’s blood slick hands close again over Rhett’s throat. He leans in close, his blood dripping hotly on Rhett’s cheeks, to whisper in his ear.

“What do you think?” he asks. “Should I leave you with your head caved in on the floor like we did to your friend? Or should I drink you dry and leave you empty? Which do you think would hurt your boyfriend more?” 

Rhett gathers up the air he can and uses it to spit in his face. He blinks for a moment, loosening his hold on Rhett’s neck, but when he squeezes again he squeezes twice as hard.

“Slow, then,” he says. “Fine. I can do that.” Rhett chokes, hands going for the vampire’s shoulders. He tossed the dagger to the side and Rhett sees it out of the corner of his eye, shining dipped in scarlet on the floor. He squeezes Rhett’s throat, thumbs bearing down on his windpipe, and okay. That hurts. Rhett can’t get any air in and the vampire’s bleeding a lot but Rhett’s probably going to die before the vampire bleeds out. Rhett arches his back and tries to get his knees up, desperate to get a hit in somewhere, but Henry’s heavy and Rhett’s human and he guesses that’s it then. Great. His heartbeat races in his ears, thick and loud and blurring his vision. And it’s unbelievable, terrible, that the last thing he’s going to see is this vampire’s smug, stupid face. 

Somewhere between blacking out and getting the upper hand he wonders what Stevie saw last, what she was thinking. If she was scared. Or if she even saw it coming. And Rhett digs one thumb into the knife wound in Henry’s chest and sends him screaming. The moment he spends roaring in pain is all Rhett needs. He presses harder into the bloody, ragged hole in Henry’s chest and he gets enough leverage to lunge with his other hand for his knife. Henry reacts first and he kicks it away, the knife skittering across the kitchen floor and sliding under the fridge. For a moment he looks down at Rhett and Rhett looks up at him and neither one of them moves.

Rhett slams his hands into Henry’s shoulders and shoves him back. He snarls as he hits the linoleum floor on his back and Rhett lands a punch in the center of his chest, a fountain of blood erupting from his mouth. Rhett gets some in his eyes and it’s a lot hotter than he expected and a whole lot thicker.

“Ew, shit,” he whines, and Henry gets him with a closed fist on the side of his head when he has his eyes closed. He really needs to get better at this whole fighting thing if he’s going to keep being in constant danger all the time. He slides off Henry and he punches Rhett again, Rhett’s teeth closing over his tongue and blood filling his mouth. “Son of a bitch!” he slurs, and Henry laughs as blood spills down Rhett’s chin. That tears it. He’s had enough. He might not be so good at fighting but this smug vampire isn’t either. Rhett opens his mouth to tell him so and he pounces. Rhett doesn’t see him coming until he’s on his back again, head slamming against the floor. Henry’s hurt and bloodied but so is Rhett and the vampire leans in, one hand holding Rhett to the floor by his shoulder and the other ripping at the collar of his shirt.

“You’re bleeding,” he breathes, and before Rhett can remind him he is, too, he bites him.

“Ahh!” Rhett barks, and he claps a hand over Rhett’s mouth. He groans, his tongue lapping at Rhett’s throat, and it only hurts for a second. It’s been a long time since he’s been bitten but he remembers. Calmness washes over him all at once, heat and serenity in the venom in Henry’s fangs. And he groans in pleasure as he drinks from Rhett, mouth hot, and Rhett guesses this is an okay way to go. He doesn’t really feel scared anymore. Wait, what was he scared of, anyway? This isn’t so bad. It actually feels sort of nice, the vampire latched onto his neck, and Rhett arches up into his touch to give him more skin. 

He chuckles and the sound is a lot colder than his mouth. Rhett opens his eyes, the kitchen going in and out of focus, and this is not really how he pictured his night going. This isn’t Link and this vampire is not going to stop when Rhett says stop. This vampire is going to kill him. He inhales, hands scrabbling at Henry’s long hair. He exhales, pulling until Henry groans.

“Let go,” he demands. Rhett’s brain is fuzzy but not fuzzy enough to hear anything close to warmth in the command. He’s tired and he has to get the vampire to let go of him. He has to wake up; he has to shake the dizziness from his head before he’s empty. 

“You…” Rhett breathes. “ _You_ let go.” Instead of obeying Henry licks a long stripe up the side of Rhett’s neck and laughs when he can’t shy away. 

“You taste even better than I thought you would,” he says. “I can’t wait to tell your boyfriend how much I enjoyed drinking every drop of your blood.” Rhett fights uselessly against the vampire’s hold on him, his hands opening and closing in his hair, and for a moment Rhett thought he had him. He really thought he did. But he’s just a person and Henry’s a vampire, a monster, and Rhett’s glad he doesn’t have to be around to see the look on Link’s face when he’s told what happened to Rhett. If he could he might even apologize to him for letting it happen, for letting Henry in. 

If Rhett’s going to go like this he’s not going to make it easy for him. 

“You know why no one likes vampires, Hank?” Rhett says, yanking on his hair just hard enough to make him scowl into his skin. 

“Why?” he asks. 

“They’re a…they’re a pain in the neck! Hank, they’re a pain in the neck. Get it?”

“I get it,” Henry growls. Rhett’s losing a lot of blood, he thinks, a lot of it passing into Henry’s mouth from the holes in Rhett’s throat. He can lose more, probably, before he can’t manage to fight him anymore. So he keeps going.

“What’s the…what’s the difference between a lawyer and a vampire?” he asks.

“What?”

“A vampire only sucks…blood at night,” Rhett replies, and this one makes Henry chuckle. Rhett doesn’t feel well, his legs kicking out weakly under Henry, but he has a few more. At least his teeth don’t hurt anymore. “Hey, what does a vampire have in common with…with a vacuum cleaner?” Rhett asks.

“Easy,” Henry says, making gross sucking sounds with his tongue. “They both suck.”

“Close,” Rhett replies. “But no.” He can’t remember the punchline for a moment, his brain misty, but he catches it and tries not to laugh. “Neither one of them is alive.” Henry pauses. 

“That’s the stupidest joke I have ever heard,” he says. Rhett grimaces at the slick feeling of his tongue on his skin and he’s drinking fast, lapping blood as fast as it can spill. Rhett can’t think of anything else, any other joke to tell to keep him busy. He has Rhett pressed to the floor and he’s still bleeding, hot blood splattering on Rhett’s face from the hole in his chest. If he could find his limbs he could reach out and press again into the hole and make him hurt. But all he can feel is his throat, hot and wet, and everything else is too far away. 

“Wait, wait,” he says. “I have one more.” 

“Go on,” Henry says. Rhett was struggling, wasn’t he, just a moment ago? He can’t find his stupid legs now to kick at the vampire and he watches his hand twitch listlessly on the floor at his side. But he has one more.

“This is a long one,” Rhett says, like he’s telling a bedtime story. Like he’s not going to die telling a lousy joke. 

“I suppose you have a few minutes to live,” Henry says, slurping on Rhett’s throat. Link is a much daintier eater, quieter, and Rhett needs to stop thinking about him. As long as he doesn’t think about how he is going to feel this won’t be as bad. “Make it fast.” 

“Okay,” Rhett says. “Listen. So there are these three vampires. One is…well one is the strongest. One is the, uh. The oldest. And the other is the fastest. They have this competition, see, to figure out who is the best of them. So the first vampire, the strong one, he runs off and comes back ten minutes later. He has…blood all over his face. He says, see that house over there? He tells the others he killed an entire family. Right? So the second vampire says, you know, that’s nothing.”

“Mhm,” Henry says, nodding as he laps at Rhett’s neck. How much blood is in a person, anyway? It can’t be all that much. 

“Anyway, this second vampire, the oldest one, he goes off and comes back _five_ minutes later covered in blood. He says, you see that village over there? He says he went to the…to the village and killed every last person there. Right. So the third vampire, the fast one, he runs off. He…he comes back thirty seconds later, his face covered in blood.”

Henry isn’t holding onto Rhett’s shoulder anymore. He doesn’t know when he got distracted enough to ease his grip but Rhett finds his arm and watches his hand move. Okay. So he has a hand. He can do something with that. 

“What does the third vampire say?” Henry asks. He stops licking at Rhett, his hot mouth inches from Rhett’s skin, and he feels a trickle of blood fall from the holes the vampire left in him. He doesn’t have time for this. But he can’t just leave him hanging. 

“The third vampire,” Rhett says. “He says, you see that tree over there? And the other two vampires say yes. They did.” He turns his head so he can see Henry, the side of his face turned towards Rhett. “And the third vampire says, well I didn’t.” Henry pauses, mulling it over. And when he begins to laugh Rhett moves. He’s slow but the vampire’s distracted and Rhett squishes his fingers back into the hole in his chest, making him howl. Rhett frees his hand and Rhett rolls under the kitchen table, crawling on his belly towards the fridge. He only has a second, maybe, but it’s all he needs. He closes a bloodied hand around the silver blade under the fridge and when Henry lands on him he lands on the knife. 

“Vampire jokes, huh?” Rhett says as the vampire’s body slides down the blade and closer to him. It sinks into his stomach, blood painting Rhett’s chest red, and as the frown on his face fades he rolls them over and yanks the blade out. “Who knew there were so many good vampire jokes out there?” he asks. 

For that Henry has no answer. Rhett sits back on his haunches over the dead vampire, trying his best not to pass out. And the front door of the apartment is still wide open, footsteps approaching from down the hall. 

“Hey!” he calls to whoever passes by, and the person passes the apartment and doubles back at the sound of his voice. “Hey. I’m Rhett. Do you know anything about first aid?” The person steps into the living room, a young woman in a flowing evening gown, and he can see her but she can’t yet see him. 

“A little,” she says, perplexed. “Why?” She finds Rhett in the kitchen and she gasps, hands flying to her mouth, but the world goes dark around the sparkles on her dress and he wavers where he sits. 

“No reason,” Rhett says. “I just think I might pass out.” The last thing he hears before blacking out is the sound of the woman dropping to her knees at his side to keep his head from hitting the floor. And that’s all.


	10. X

Rhett wakes up to an eyeful of glitter and decides he’s had enough of it for the rest of his life. There’s a facecloth full of ice perched on his forehead and glitter in his face, the woman in an evening gown sitting with her legs crossed at his side. She holds something wet to the side of his throat and he’s still on the kitchen floor and he’s covered in sticky blood. 

“Hey, Rhett,” the woman says. “Care to tell me what happened?” 

He tries to reply but his throat is too tight, throbbing from where Henry held him down. He manages to croak out a strangled sounding, “He tried to kill me.” Henry lies on the kitchen floor beside them, a white sheet thrown over him, and Rhett guesses the woman must have done that. He wishes she didn’t. There are angry red splotches blooming across the clean linen and it’s making Rhett feel sicker than he thinks his face would have. 

“Why did he try to kill you?” she asks. She pulls the wet paper towel off the side of Rhett’s neck and looks down at the two pinpricks of blood dotting it. “Is he a vampire or something?”

“Yes,” Rhett says. His throat is killing him, bone dry, and he coughs hard enough to see stars. 

“You lost a lot of blood,” she says. “I’m a nurse. I know a lot about first aid. I kind of lied when I said _a little_ because I was worried you were a drug overdose or something. Those aren’t pretty.”

Rhett tries to laugh and chokes instead. “And this is?”

“This is way better,” she says. “Listen, I think you should probably go to the hospital.”

“No,” Rhett says. “Wait, am I going to die if I don’t?”

“I don’t think so,” the woman says. “You can lose half your blood before you need a transfusion. Lucky for you I think you fall just below that. Even so, you really ought to…”

“Who are you?” Rhett asks. The woman is blurred by the blood on Rhett’s eyelashes but she looks younger than him, younger by a decade. She has her messy hair piled up on her head, an ornate silver butterfly perched in the front, and it catches the light bouncing off the glitter on her dress. 

“I’m Lizzie,” she says. “I’m not supposed to be up here. This whole floor is private. Yours, I guess. I was sneaking up to look at the roof. I’m sorry.” 

“Not mine,” Rhett manages. “My boyfriend’s.”

“Boyfriend?” she asks, and he nods. “Hmm.”

“Is that a problem?” he asks. He wants to wipe the splotches from his eyes but he seems to have lost his limbs again, his body limp. He can feel Lizzie putting pressure on his neck and not much else. Lizzie shrugs and tells him no.

“You just don’t look the type,” she says.

“There’s a body on the floor,” Rhett rasps. “I’m bleeding out. And you’re concerned with the fact that I’m _gay_?” Lizzie blinks owlishly at him for a moment and in the end she smiles.

“You’re right,” she says. “I mean, I don’t have a problem with it, of course I don’t, but it _is_ a weird thing to get hung up on. Given the circumstances.”

“Right,” Rhett says. He closes his eyes and she shakes him, telling him he should stay awake.

“Tell me something,” she says. “Keep talking. You might be concussed, to tell you the truth, and that is actually a lot more serious than the blood loss.” Rhett concentrates on his head and okay. She might be right. The back of his head throbs, his temples on fire, and now that he’s found the pain he can’t keep it back.

“Shit,” he groans. “Shit. Fuck. Okay, what’s with the dress?”

“I was at a party downstairs,” she says. “There are lots of parties here. Rich snobs, blah blah blah. Someone told me the city looks amazing from the roof. They told me I’m not allowed to look but I tried anyway.”

“Party,” Rhett says, and he can’t believe Henry waltzed straight through a party to get to him. There are people laughing and having a great time downstairs and Rhett is still in danger of dying at any moment. Slowly his limbs come back to him and with the returning feeling comes pain, hot and heavy and sharp. He tries his best to keep the cobwebs from the corners of his vision. 

“So, where was your boyfriend when this guy tried to kill you? Is he the killer who has been in this city for months now? Did you just kill a serial killer?”

Rhett’s way too tired to answer all three questions at once but he tries anyway. “He’s on vacation,” he says. “I don’t know if it’s the killer. And like I said. I don’t know.” The lies come easy and Rhett doesn’t know how crazy this girl is to not be running. “What should we do…about the body?” 

“Oh!” she says like she forget he was there, lying right at her side. “I guess we should call the police.” 

“Right,” Rhett says, and twenty minutes later he’s sitting in the middle of the living room getting examined by a pair of paramedics while Henry’s body is carted from the apartment. He doesn’t tell the paramedics he lost any blood at all. He doesn’t want to go to the hospital; he wants to stay here and he wants to call Link and beg for him to come home. He can take a lot but he doesn’t feel well. He’s shaken up and he wants Link to be here to hold him. He doesn’t care how pitiful he sounds when he calls him. He needs him here.

Lizzie hovers nearby and tells them no, she didn’t see the attack, no she doesn’t know Rhett or the attacker, yes, she just saw Rhett’s door open and checked to see why. He answers questions like his full name, his job, the first ten presidents, the alphabet forwards and back. He can’t name the presidents so they try to give him states, concerned he knocked his brain loose or something. He thinks he might have. The policemen talking to Lizzie discuss the possibility of the person Rhett killed being the serial killer and he knows he should keep his mouth shut. He has nothing to do with this; this isn’t his world. But they think they have him, they think they can lift the curfew and appease the city, but they’re wrong. Their conversation is a lot more interesting than trying to name all the states that start with the letter M and Rhett interrupts. 

“I don’t think it was the killer,” Rhett says, and three heads perk up to look at him. “I don’t. He wasn’t very good, as you can see. Besides, the killer drains their victims. Doesn’t he? And I wasn’t drained. Not even a little bit.” Lizzie’s eyes flash and Rhett looks at her, sending a message with his eyes as best he can. She gapes like a fish for a moment but seems to get it. She shuts her mouth. The police finish with Lizzie and they finish with Rhett and the paramedic examines him all over again. They think he’s hiding something, he guesses, the paramedic sharing a concerned glance with his partner, but they determine he doesn’t have a concussion but he should come with them anyway. 

“I’m good,” Rhett says, even though the room is spinning and he thinks he has to throw up. A crime scene team comes in when the police officers leave and they take pictures of the kitchen, the lights on their cameras making his head pound even worse. Lizzie watches him grimace for a minute before stepping behind him to block him from the worst of the flashes. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” the paramedic asks. “I think you should.”

“I’ll spend the night,” Lizzie says, inviting herself to Link’s place. Rhett doesn’t have a reason to say no so he stays quiet. “I’ll make sure he’s okay. I’m a nurse. I promise I’ll do a good job.” They try one more time to convince him but when he says no they give Lizzie instructions on what to watch for, what to drag him to the hospital for. She nods and takes notes and tells them she’ll make sure nothing happens to him. 

The crew in the kitchen goes to work on cleaning up the mess and he watches them put Link’s silver knife into an evidence bag, zipping it shut and stowing it away. 

“Do you feel safe here tonight?” a lingering police officer asks. “You might want to get a hotel if you feel uncomfortable. You look like you could use a year of sleep.” Rhett assures him he’s fine and five hours after he let Henry into Link’s apartment the door finally shuts behind the last of them. Lizzie sits on the sofa and Rhett sinks into it beside her, so tired he could cry. 

“I just want Link,” he tells her, letting her pull him down to rest his head in her lap. 

“Your boyfriend?” she asks. 

“Mhm,” Rhett replies. Lizzie is a complete stranger but she’s petting Rhett’s hair and he’s too exhausted to mind. He’s just glad he doesn’t have to spend the rest of the night alone. Granted, the sun has already started to creep up and it’s not so much night anymore, but he needs to sleep and he doesn’t want to do it when he’s the only one here. With Lizzie stroking back his hair he feels okay and it’s almost daylight when he starts to doze off. But Lizzie doesn’t let him.

“Tell me about your boyfriend,” she says. “I want you to stay awake.” It’s the last thing Rhett wants to do, talking when he wants to sleep, but he nods. Fine. Fine, fine, he can talk.

“He’s patient,” Rhett tells Lizzie, and Rhett’s tired and lonely and he can’t help but whine in protest when her hand stills. She runs her hands again through his hair and he manages to reply. “He’s madly in love with me and I have never been in love before. He tends to give his heart away and I keep mine close. So you can see he would need to be patient with me.”

“Sounds nice,” Lizzie says, her hand gentle in Rhett’s hair. 

“Mhm,” he replies. “I want to sleep.”

“Maybe when the sun comes up,” she says. “Do you mind if I stay while you sleep just to be on the safe side? I’d hate to leave and have you die on me.”

“Mmm,” Rhett says. “Sure. No problem.”

“Tell me more about your boyfriend,” she says when he nuzzles against her hand and tries to drift off. He wants to open his eyes and fix her with a look of exasperation but his eyelids are too heavy and he gives up the idea.

“He’s great in bed,” Rhett says. Anything to get her to let him sleep. “He’s magic with his mouth. He likes to be tied up even though he pretends he doesn’t. The second you get him tied to the bed he loses all control of…”

“You know what?” Lizzie asks. “Why don’t you call it a night?”

 

Lizzie spends the rest of the day hovering over Rhett, dressed to the nines in her evening gown. Rhett spends the day in Link’s bed with the curtains drawn and his head pounding. Twice he falls out of bed on his way to throw up and twice Lizzie threatens to take him to the hospital. He tells her Link might sue her for trespassing and the idle threat quiets her. She asks Rhett why he lied to the police, why he told them he doesn’t think Henry was the killer, but he doesn’t tell the truth. He tells her he’s too tired to answer questions and she sighs, rolling her eyes at him. He doesn’t care. He just wants Link but he isn’t here and Rhett is not going to be the one to call him. If Rhett calls he’ll spill what happened and if he spills he’ll come running home without doing what he set out to do. Rhett won’t have his near death experience be for nothing. 

He’s wide awake and starving by nightfall and Lizzie rummages through Link’s pantry and marvels at its vast emptiness. She orders Chinese food for the two of them and even lets Rhett sit at the kitchen table with her despite the way he has to slouch to keep from passing out. 

“I have never seen someone so pale who was still breathing,” Lizzie remarks around a mouthful of egg roll, and he tells her she should meet Link. 

“Is he a ghost or something?” she teases. 

Rhett tells her, “Or something.” It’s almost eight o’clock at night when there’s a knock on the door and Lizzie opens it to a flurry of flashbulbs.

“What the fuck!” she shrieks, and the news crew pushing cameras in her face asks if they can come in. “Why?” she asks. The five or so people milling in the doorway catch sight of Rhett with his fork halfway to his mouth and they go wild.

“How do you feel having saved the city from the most prolific serial killer in Los Angeles’ modern history?” one of them asks. 

“What was going through your mind when the killer broke in?” another asks. 

“We would like to give the people of this city some peace of mind by…”

“Can we get a quote from you? Anything at all!” 

“Is it true the most recent victim besides yourself was someone you knew?” 

Rhett throws down his fork and storms to the door. Lizzie has a protective arm in the doorframe keeping the reporters back but just like last night Rhett is fed up and just like last night he invites his attacker in. The reporters swarm him, five microphones in his face, and Rhett looks at the man closest to him.

“Hi,” Rhett says, and his eyes are wide on Rhett’s throat. “Nice bruises, right?” he asks. Without looking at Rhett’s face the man nods. “I have a quote for you,” Rhett says. “I’m tired, I just won the fight for my life, and I would appreciate if all of you would fuck off before I become the next serial killer in LA. What do you say?” The cameras turn off faster than Rhett can blink.

“Are you sure we can’t just get one exclusive quote? Anything at all, I promise!”

“You’re a hero, Mr. McLaughlin. Don’t you want some recognition for that?” 

“I’m not a hero!” Rhett scoffs. “He wasn’t even the…” He freezes. Behind the reporters, behind the cameras, Link stands in the doorway of his apartment. The reporters watch Rhett for a beat and when they realize where he’s looking they turn with him, befuddled. They don’t know he feels like he hasn’t seen Link in a year. They don’t know he missed him, he missed him, he could have _died_ for missing him. They don’t know he’s an emotionally crippled mess but they know where to aim their cameras and he hears them go off as Rhett slams into Link and closes his arms around him. By the time he remembers to inhale Link is babbling in his ear.

“I saw the news vans outside and I thought…honey, I thought…” The reporters snap pictures and Rhett doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. There’s something he has to say.

“I’m okay,” he says, and he pulls back just enough to place his hands on Link’s cheeks. His eyes are wide and his mouth is open and Rhett loves him, he loves him. 

“What happened to you, honey?” Link breathes. “Are you sure you’re okay? I saw the vans, Rhett, and I have never…I didn’t know what to…Jesus, I thought…”

“Shut up,” Rhett says, tilting Link’s chin up to silence him with a kiss. “Shut up.”

“I thought maybe you…” he breathes when Rhett breaks away, and he has an idea what he wants to say but he chooses not to say it. He looks beautiful, a sight for sore eyes, flabbergasted, and Rhett loves him. Link looks at him like he doesn’t know whether to shout at him or cry. The reporters poke at Rhett’s shoulders and ask for a quote, please, just one little quote, and can they please get Link’s name to use the photo of them kissing in the paper? 

“What are they doing here?” Link asks, his eyes roving over Lizzie in her evening gown, over the reporters scribbling down notes.

“I almost died last night,” Rhett says, “and you want to know what the reporters are doing here? Link, I apparently just killed the most prolific serial killer in LA’s history!” Link looks at him and cocks his head to the side, completely ignoring the part about Rhett almost being a goner. 

“Funny,” he says. “I thought I just did.” Rhett feels his eyes go wide and he ignores the reporters hovering, tugging on his sleeve. 

“Wait,” Rhett whispers. “Did you really?” 

“I did,” he says, and the reporters have a field day when Rhett launches himself back into Link’s arms and lifts him off his feet. He kisses Link hard on the mouth and that’s it, then. They’ve done it, it’s over, they really are the ones who saved the city. The person who killed Stevie is dead and that’s it. Rhett’s done. There’s nothing else he wants from the reporters, nothing at all. 

“Sorry, folks,” he says, and Lizzie helps him push them out the door. “You can print that picture, whichever you want,” he tells them through the door he holds ajar. “Make sure you say we’re heroes. His name is Link, by the way. Link Neal. Make sure you put he’s the love of my friggin’ life,” Rhett says, and he closes the door. He locks it. And he hits the floor on his hands and knees. Lizzie flies to his side but Link is already picking him up, setting him on the sofa, and over his head he asks Lizzie who the hell she is and what she’s doing in his apartment. 

“I saved your boyfriend’s ass,” she says, and Rhett doesn’t hear much else. He blacks out, exhausted beyond anything he has ever felt before. Link and Lizzie bicker over him, sitting on either side of him on the sofa, and he lets them. He loves Link. He loves him and he loves the way he sounds when he fights, passion setting his voice on fire. Hell, he loves Lizzie, the girl who tells Link he’s damn lucky she found Rhett when she did. She says something like, “Where were _you_?” and Link tells the truth. Rhett doesn’t get the chance to warn him they weren’t going with the truth but he guesses it’s all right. He lets his head loll onto Link’s shoulder and Lizzie seems to take the truth okay.

If Rhett had known this is how it would feel to admit he loves him he probably would have saved it for a better time. But it’s stuck in his head now and Link fights for him and Rhett wishes he wouldn’t. He’s too tired for this, spent and feeling liquefied, and he lets them argue. He falls asleep on Link’s shoulder and it’s okay. Rhett loves him. He knows he’ll take care of him.

The person who killed his Stevie is gone and he doesn’t have to worry anymore. It’s all good. It’s all right. He sleeps and it comes easy and he’s so thankful he could cry, melting with it. It’s all good. It’s all right. 

 

When Rhett finally wakes up without a trace of fog in his head he’s missed two days of school. It’s the weekend and he hasn’t left his bed since the night Link came back. They haven’t spoken much; Rhett’s slept more hours than he has ever slept in his life and when he is awake he can hear Link talking to Lizzie. He seems to have accepted her presence and her his and Rhett doesn’t know why she’s still here but he’s glad Link has let her stay. He’s protective and he likes to be in the room when she comes to check on Rhett, her medical skills surpassing his. She teaches him how to best check Rhett’s pulse and how to check his eyes for signs of concussion even when Rhett assures him the danger of that is far behind him. 

Link hardly leaves his side. It’s not like it bothers Rhett. He missed him and Rhett tells him over and over how much he did, kissing him every time he smiles. And he smiles a hell of a lot. Rhett surprises himself with just how much he feels like doing the same. Link shows him the paper, a picture of him and Link mid-embrace gracing the front cover. There’s an article all about him, about them, and Link lets Rhett take credit for killing the killer. He hasn’t told Rhett yet the details of where he went and what he did but for now Rhett lets him read the article out loud as Rhett lounges in bed. Lizzie stands in the doorway to the bedroom, finally out of her dress and into a pair of pajamas, and Rhett doesn’t ask Link how long she’ll be here. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t mind. Link is here and Rhett loves him and his voice is gentle as he reads to him. 

“The people of Los Angeles and the surrounding towns can breathe easy for the first time this winter,” he reads from the paper, snapping it open in both hands. Rhett’s not paying close attention; he’s thinking of cutting out the picture of them and tacking it to the wall back at his place. Or maybe in his classroom where everyone can fawn over it, the tiny black and white version of Link clutching him in his arms. “The reign of the killer who claimed the lives of at least five victims has finally been ended,” Link reads. And Rhett can’t believe it’s over and they’ve won. He’s alive and so is Link and maybe it’s the blood loss but Rhett’s feeling lightheaded with happiness. 

It’s only later, when Lizzie has gone home for the night and Link and Rhett are alone, that the bad feelings he’s pushed away manage to come back. Link sits with him on his bed, the bearskin duvet wrapped around the two of them, and he asks Rhett to tell him what happened. He’s not stupid; he must see the bruises on his neck and the way losing half his damn blood has paled him. He can’t believe it’s taken Link this long to ask and when Rhett tells him so he looks horrified.

“I was trying to give you a break,” he says. “Was I wrong that you needed one? I thought pushing you to tell me everything right away would kill you. Now don’t be a brat. Tell me everything now.” And as tired and wrecked as Rhett feels he still tries. Link listens, his blue eyes wide, and when Rhett gets to the part where Henry latched onto his neck he cries out.

“He drank your blood?” Link asks, his voice strained. He looks like he might be sick, his mouth turned down, and Rhett nods. “ _Babe_ ,” Link whines, and he moves closer to Rhett to inspect his neck. His fingers are so gentle Rhett feels like he might cry, his touch the best thing Rhett could have asked for. He cups Rhett’s chin in his hand and tilts his head, eyes on the healing puncture wounds on the side of Rhett’s neck. 

“Oh, honey,” Link says, and Rhett’s glad he doesn’t ask how much was taken from him. He doesn’t think Link needs to know. “How did he get in, Rhett? I thought leaving you here would make you safer. If I had thought there was any chance of him getting in…”

“I invited him,” Rhett says, shocking Link into silence. “He was throwing rocks at your window and he was taunting me through the door, Link.”

“How could you be so stupid, Rhett?” he replies. 

“How could you leave me?” 

“I left to protect you! And I did! The threat is gone! Great! Good riddance! But you had to go and try and get yourself killed! Why would you _do_ that?”

“I thought I could get him!” Rhett snaps, getting irritated at Link’s anger. He doesn’t like it when it’s directed at him.

“You thought, alone, you could take on a vampire? Honestly, Rhett, I can’t believe you’re even alive!”

“Thanks for having faith in me, asshole,” Rhett replies. 

“I hardly thought _I_ could take on a vampire,” he snaps. 

“Well, you did. And I did. So there’s no goddamn point in you being so mean to me now.” Link opens his mouth like he would beg to differ but Rhett’s had enough. Rhett missed him and he’s being a jerk, a real fucking jerk, and he shuts him up with a kiss. Link breaks it, protesting, but Rhett kisses him again. He missed him, goddammit, and did he not miss Rhett at all? He pined for him, he let himself wish he was here, and now that he is he doesn’t want to be here. How is this Rhett’s life?

“Rhett, you…”

“Shut _up_.” Rhett kisses him and this time he kisses Rhett back, his mouth cool. Rhett thought this would be more profound, the feeling of being free. The aftermath of all of this, the death of the person who killed Stevie. But all he feels is tired. Sick. Empty. He feels cold, shivering in Link’s bed, and he doesn’t know how to feel warm again. He feels alone. “Please,” he says, and before he can say anything else he bursts into tears. He’s too tired to even feel embarrassed, burying his face in his hands as Link cries out his name. He apologizes over and over, his hands in Rhett’s hair, but it doesn’t help him much. He’s started and he’s not going to stop easy. 

“Oh, honey,” Link coos. “Oh, hey, don’t cry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have left you alone. Baby, hey, please don’t cry.” He lets Rhett fall into his chest, his arms tight around him, and Rhett doesn’t know what to do. He can’t see through his tears and he’s so tired he thinks he could die. What is he supposed to do to fix something like that? There’s a hole in him Stevie used to fill and there’s a new hole, one punched into his chest by Link, and he tries to fill it but it keeps emptying. He can’t keep himself together and his head hurts, Link cradling him to his chest and trying his best to lend some comfort. 

Rhett’s just scared. There’s no way to tell him that, to explain, but he’s scared. Rhett’s scared of him and how much he lets Link mean to him and he’s scared he feels broken when Link’s away. He’s scared because Link is all he has left and he doesn’t know how long it will be before Link leaves him. And he’s scared because he will. 

“Tell me how to make you feel better,” Link says. When he barks a painful sob instead of replying Link sighs, pressing his lips to the top of Rhett’s head. “It’s over,” he breathes. “It’s over, honey, you don’t have to be scared anymore.” 

“No?” he manages, and Link presses a kiss into his hair. 

“No,” he says. “No one is going to hurt you anymore. I promise. It’s over, honeybee, and I love you.” Link runs his hands through Rhett’s hair and he loves him, too. He loves him. He _loves_ him. Link must know by now. “I love you, please don’t cry.” 

Rhett sounds broken and terrified when he tells Link, “I love you, too.” And Link freezes. His hands stop moving and Rhett’s said it. He’s let it out. He squeezes his eyes shut and waits for Link to breathe. 

“Oh, Rhett,” he finally says, and that’s all. He has both hands on Rhett’s wet cheeks and he’s guiding him, pressing his forehead to Rhett’s. “You _love_ me?” he asks, and when Rhett opens his eyes he’s beaming. Up close Rhett can see all the colors in his eyes, ocean blue and steely gray, and they shine. His blue eyes shine and Rhett loves him.

“I love you,” Rhett says, and one moment Link smiles wide at him and the next he’s in Rhett’s lap, his nose buried in the underside of Rhett’s jaw. Link’s arms are wrapped around his middle and Rhett’s around Link’s neck, the distance between them closing, and Link smiles into his skin.

“You love me,” he says. If they were fighting he’s forgotten it and so has Rhett. What do they have to fight about? Rhett loves him and he loves Rhett and they’ve been through hell together and they’ve come out the other side. Haven’t they? It doesn’t feel like an end, sitting here with him, and as Link presses open mouthed kisses to the side of Rhett’s neck he thinks he might relearn how to feel warm.

“Link,” he says, tilting his head back to get more of Link’s tongue.

“Hmm?” he replies. 

“I really love you. Honest to God, I freaking love you.” He has no idea, none at all, how long it’s been since Rhett’s said it like this. He has no idea but he grins, beatific, elated.

“I knew it,” he says, and Rhett’s not even going to feign anger at him for saying so. He was obvious, he said it without saying it out loud, and now that it’s out there he feels better than he’s felt since before Christmas. Since before Halloween. He feels all right; he feels somewhere on the borderline between good and surviving. He feels maybe he can be okay. Maybe this is okay, this whole falling in love thing, and he lets the rest of the night pass him by. It’s a blur, a flurry of frantic, needy kisses and frantic, needy _I love you_ ’s. He loses track of who says it more. Like it matters. Like it makes a difference. 

He’s scared and he doesn’t know what’s going to happen but he gets the feeling he gets to keep Link for now. It has to count for something. He came back to Rhett and he keeps him warm. He keeps him all right. 

 

At school it’s hard. Rhett’s a hero, the student newspaper trying to get an interview with him all day long. Link is magnanimous enough to let Rhett keep the credit for killing the killer. As Rhett accepts the five hundredth thank you of the day he decides he better be sure to thank him. He doesn’t think there’s an ounce of common sense in anyone in this school; he’s showered with praise and slaps on the back like he didn’t lose the person most important to him. Like they’ve forgotten he might be a hero to them, keeping their kids safe or whatever they believe, but he couldn’t even save his best friend. He envies them their short term memories. 

Rhett’s kids are a lot better than everyone else and it’s a relief when he slips into the auditorium at the end of the day to see them waiting. He managed to finish the cast list for the spring play and he holds it in one hand, hiding it from the kids as they cheer at his entrance. 

“Hey, guys,” he says, and he would tell them to stop cheering if he thought they were doing it because he’s their hero. They just love him, pure and simple, and he is so relieved to be back with them he feels weak with it. The curfew is lifted and they have nowhere to be, nowhere they are forced to hide, and they look just as relieved as Rhett feels.

“Hurry up, Mr. M.!” Amelia cries, wringing her hands like she has no idea she was Sandy from the moment she sang her first note. 

“Yeah, get your ass over here!” Robbie adds. The kids lounge on the stage, in the audience, limbs askew as they sit all over each other. Rehearsals seem a lifetime ago, a hundred years or more. Rhett misses Stevie sitting at his side and he misses Beast’s castle, torn down sometime in the days Rhett spent at home. But he’s here and the kids are here and he has to be okay for them if not for himself. They need him and they deserve to be as happy as Rhett can make them. 

“I’m going to tack this to the wall,” he says, climbing up on stage with the cast list clutched to his chest. “And then I’m going to back away. You guys are going to wait until I’m a safe distance away before attacking. Understood?” The kids nod and he doesn’t believe them; Amelia is already on her feet with her braid twisted up in one hand. “Okay,” he says anyway. He pins the cast list to the wall backstage and he waits for the inevitable footsteps to come from behind him. When they do he turns around and the kids look away, pretending they weren’t just inching towards him.

“I’ll cancel the play if you can’t listen to me,” he lies. “Just give me a chance to run away before you get any closer.” He takes a step forward and the kids take one back and he makes sure they’re still before he hops off the stage. The moment he hits the floor Amelia has the cast list in her hand and two seconds later she’s screaming. She tosses the list to the side and Robbie catches it and more screams follow as Amelia throws her arms around Rhett. 

“Thank you!” she shrieks in his ear.

“Anything for you,” he replies, choked by her arms. He has a mouthful of her hair and her arms tight around him and it’s good to be back in a place where he knows what he’s doing. Everywhere else he’s hopeless but as long as he has this, his class here for him, he has enough. 

 

When Rhett gets home a few days later, the weekend a welcome relief, Lizzie and Link sit in Link’s kitchen gabbing over ice cream. She’s telling him a story about goats, something about the biggest horns she’s ever seen, and Link nods with a spoon between his teeth. Rhett drops his bag by the door and locks it behind him, content enough in acting like this is home. He doesn’t have a lot here but he’s been dragging things over, clothes and books and little things. Over the past week he’s gathered more and more here and Link doesn’t mention it. Not like Rhett would have any excuse if he did. He has a toothbrush here and Link still has one at his place, placed next to Rhett’s on the sink. He has pajamas at Rhett’s place and Rhett has T-shirts at his. Eventually they might have to pick one place and stick with it but Rhett just managed to admit he loves him and the thought of officially moving in together is a bit much. 

“What’s up, Liz?” Rhett asks as he gets his own spoon and knocks hers out of the way to get at the ice cream. She comes over to chat about every other day, claiming boredom, and Rhett doesn’t blame her for the obvious soft spot she has for Link. She has the same soft spot for Rhett, he thinks, but it’s harder to see it when it’s directed his way. He can watch her smile when she talks to Link and see the fondness in her face; when she talks to Rhett it’s harder to gauge. But it’s all right. She’s slid her way into their lives and as long as Link is happy to have her Rhett is, too. They could use a little distraction shaped like a chipper five foot something girl in their lives.

“Are you scared of goats, Rhett?” she asks. “I think Link is scared of goats.”

“Goats?” Link asks around a mouthful of ice cream. “Shit, I thought you said ghosts. Yeah, I’m not scared of goats. I was wondering why the ghost you saw had massive horns, though.” Lizzie laughs hard, choking on ice cream, and she buries her face in her hands to hide it. 

“Ghosts don’t have _horns_ , Link!” Lizzie laughs, voice muffled by her palms. “Christ, what am I going to do with you?”

“Dunno,” Link shrugs, and he finally seems to realize Rhett’s home. He gives Rhett a kiss, soft and carefree, and it’s a nice thing to come home to. It’s a nice thing to have, a mouth to kiss and eyes that light up when he’s around. He doesn’t plan on letting it slip away anytime soon. Rhett could get used to this, couldn’t he, to not being afraid? He knows he shouldn’t. He knows that. But the more days that go by the better he feels, bruises fading on his throat and the image of the vampire lying in the kitchen fading with them. He feels okay and Link makes him feel better, pulling Rhett into his lap at the table and spooning strawberry ice cream into his mouth. 

“What do you two feel like doing tonight?” Link asks. “The world is at our feet and I don’t want to sit around eating ice cream all night.”

“I do,” Rhett replies, and Lizzie laughs. 

“What do you have in mind, Link?” she asks. Link turns his head to press cold lips to the side of Rhett’s neck before replying. When he answers her he mumbles into Rhett’s skin. 

“I was thinking it’s about time we celebrate a job well done,” he says. “What do you say we go to the first bar we see and get so drunk we can’t anymore?” 

“Sounds good to me,” Lizzie says, tipping her spoon to Link as if in cheers. 

“Rhett?” Link breathes against Rhett’s throat. He can feel Link breathing and he can feel his heart thrumming in his lips. Okay. Anything he wants. 

“I’m in,” Rhett says, and Link smiles.

“Yay,” he says into Rhett’s skin. He kisses him enough times to make Lizzie pretend to retch and he pulls away beaming. And all right, so maybe Rhett’s a goner. He doesn’t care. Only for him. 

 

An hour later the three of them are walking down the busy street, passing dozens of happy people by. They don’t see Rhett in his coat with the collar popped up and he’s glad; they’re happy because of him. Or they think they are, anyway. He’s not the one to thank but that’s okay. Let them thank him. It’s okay. He hasn’t even had a drop to drink yet and he feels on top of the world; he clutches Link’s gloved hand as they walk down the street and he can’t believe it took him so long to let himself have this. Link can’t stop smiling at him, all teeth and flickering eyes, and Rhett catches him more than once staring at his mouth. Link is going to start drooling and Rhett is glad. He likes the way Link makes him feel, like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen, like he’s hotter than the sun. Rhett’s sure he’s always looked at Link the same way. Let Link stare at him. 

The bar they walk into is packed, exploding with music, and Link orders a round of blood orange martinis. He can’t stop chuckling about it as they squeeze onto stools, laughing at his own cleverness. 

“I don’t even _like_ blood orange,” he says. “I just got tired of Bloody Marys and I’m glad this was on the menu.” Lizzie rolls her eyes at him and it’s startling, sometimes, how much she reminds Rhett of Stevie. She has the same big eyes and the same tendency towards impatience at Link’s brand of wit and charm. Rhett doesn’t ask Link if that’s why he likes her presence; his answer is probably the same as Rhett’s. He’s glad to have her but he’s gladder when a man wearing cowboy boots and a leather jacket invites her to dance. Rhett slides into the stool she occupied between Link and him and without waiting for Link to speak he plants a kiss on his lips.

“Link,” he says, and Link kisses him back like he’s starving for him. Rhett thinks he knows the feeling. 

“Yeah?” he asks. Already Rhett has him raspy voiced and slow; already he wants Rhett just as much as Rhett wants him. Good. There’s something sad lingering heavy in the bar and Rhett doesn’t want to remember it right now. He misses his best friend and he misses his parents and something about the end of the chaos makes it hard to breathe. 

“I love you,” he says. When Link’s lips quirk up Rhett’s already halfway to forgetting what he’s so damn worried about. 

“I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that,” he says. 

“Not even when I’m old and gray and you’re still twenty-six?”

“Yikes,” he says, pressing the gentlest, softest kiss to Rhett’s bottom lip. “Don’t talk about that now. Let’s stop occupying stools and try occupying a bathroom stall.” Rhett’s all for it. Link drags him by the hand towards the bathroom, his fingers cold and strong, and Rhett follows along. He’s been gone, Rhett’s been distracted, he’s been out there fighting for his life and Rhett has been here fighting for his. But Rhett’s here and so is he and tonight he only belongs to Rhett. He doesn’t belong to this city. Link belongs to him.

Link throws Rhett into a stall and locks the door behind him, picking Rhett up and lifting him onto the toilet seat. And this is gross, this is something he has never done before, but this is Link and Rhett can’t wait to get home to have him. 

“I’m moving in with you,” Rhett tells him as he goes for Rhett’s mouth, attacking as he struggles to get the words out. 

“Yeah?” Link grunts. 

“Yes. Yes, yes.” Link straddles the toilet to kiss Rhett and he has both arms flung around his neck, their lips crashing together with no rhythm at all. It’s okay. Their lack of rhythm has always been just fine by Rhett. Link keeps him close, his hands in the collar of Rhett’s shirt. He loves him. Christ, he loves him.

“Good,” he says. 

“This weekend,” Rhett says, and Link says _good_ again. “I’m going to fall in love with you, Link.” He pauses. His lips brush Rhett’s and don’t quite connect and Rhett wants him to move; he wants Link to touch him. But he doesn’t. Devilish, he pulls back. 

“Are you?” he asks. 

“Is that a problem?” Rhett pants, dragging Link back to him. Their mouths collide, clumsy, and Rhett doesn’t even listen to what he tells him anymore. All of it is true. He might as well let it out. 

“No,” he says. “God, no. I just didn’t think you…” 

“You didn’t think I felt that way? I did. I do. Sorry I’m such a good actor. It’s kind of what I do for a living.” Rhett kisses him hard, hard enough to make him whine, and his hands leave Rhett’s chest and slide up his shirt. The cold porcelain under Rhett’s ass has nothing on Link’s hands, icy as they travel up his stomach. 

“You’re such a bastard,” Link says like he doesn’t know. 

“I know,” Rhett says. “I know, I know. But, God, Link, you’re so…you’re so…” He doesn’t know what he is and he doesn’t seem to care; he crashes his lips to Rhett’s and Rhett goes quiet. The both of them go quiet for a while. 

Outside the bar Link and Rhett lean on the wall and drag in fresh air. Link’s fly is wide open but Rhett’s not going to tell him. The buttons on Rhett’s shirt are done up wrong so he’s not one to talk. Anyone walking by would look at them and know exactly what they’re doing here wearing short sleeves in the chilly breeze. Sweat cools on Rhett’s skin and Link breathes heavy. He’s gorgeous just like this, his sharp jaw turned up and his rosy lips parted. Rhett feels possessive and wound up as people pass them by and spare him a glance; he’s Rhett’s tonight and he doesn’t want to share. 

Lizzie stumbles from the bar on the arm of the cowboy and tells them she’s going home with him. Link tells her to have a good night and she winks at him, teetering in her heels.

“Don’t be a stranger, Liz!” Link says, and she gives a wave as she walks away towards a waiting cab. Rhett resists the urge to turn his face to him as Link watches her go. He’s not as drunk as he wants to be and watching Lizzie leave brings back strange memories, thoughts of saying goodbye to Stevie and never seeing her alive again. He starts to feel sick as fast as his elation came on and he holds onto Link for balance. 

“Let’s go home,” Rhett tells him, and he nods.

“Sure,” he says. He waits until they’re far enough from the bar for the music to fade to ask Rhett if he’s all right. And Rhett doesn’t know how to explain the truth. He is and he’s not all at once. He can’t keep track of his thoughts, of his feelings, and he just feels sick above anything else. For a minute, two, three, he rambles and Link listens. He doesn’t want to be happy with Stevie gone. He wants to mourn her and he doesn’t know why he’s letting himself feel joy so soon. It’s not fair to her for him to be happy without her and he doesn’t know what to do. He loves Link, he loves him enough to make his chest hurt, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it not scaring him anymore. 

Link doesn’t run like half of Rhett wants him to as he tries his best to explain himself. Instead he stops Rhett just before the front door of his building and presses him to the wall. 

“You’re amazing,” he says, both hands on Rhett’s face. He looks into Link’s face for a sign of a lie and finds nothing. He’s open. 

“Not,” Rhett manages. 

“Yes. You are. Rhett, you’re beautiful. You’re perfect. God, please tell me you see at least a sliver of it.”

“Um,” Rhett says as he presses a kiss to Rhett’s forehead. “No.” He chuckles and ducks his head to kiss Rhett’s cheek. 

“You’re a marvel,” he says. 

“Maybe you are,” Rhett replies. Link kisses his jaw and he knows it’s cold outside, the middle of January, but he doesn’t feel it. He makes Rhett warm. 

“Rhett,” Link says, his lips finding Rhett’s again. 

“Yeah?”

“Marry me,” he says. “What do you say?” Rhett doesn’t think.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Yeah, sure.” 

“Great,” he says, and the next time he blinks Link’s got him in his arms and into the building, into the elevator and into his apartment. He has Rhett on the bed, in his underwear, under his hips. His mouth is all Rhett can feel, his tongue on Rhett’s skin, and that’s okay. It’s all right. He doesn’t need anything else. He digs tracks into Link’s back with his nails and he writes his name all over Rhett with his tongue. Rhett cries out his name more times than he can count and it’s okay. 

He allows himself this. Just this one thing, just Link’s body. Rhett is alive and Link is his and they have all the time in the world to cry and grieve and fall apart. But Rhett doesn’t want to do it anymore. Not now. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again. 

It’s wishful thinking, all of it, but for now he lets himself think it. 

 

Rhett calls Link from rehearsal a few days later to invite him in and he says he would be delighted to join him. 

“I’ll be there soon,” he says. 

“I’ll miss you until you get here,” Rhett replies. 

“When did you get so crazy for me?” Link asks, the hint of a laugh in his voice.

“Probably halfway between the first time you bit me and the time you asked me to marry you,” Rhett replies. Link laughs on the other line and the kids are waiting for Rhett, restless, and he has to go. “Hurry here,” Rhett says. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says. 

“I love you so much.”

“Rhett, you’re too much.”

“Get used to the feeling. I still haven’t.” They say goodbye and Rhett hangs up, breaking apart Ian and Adam as they play fight. 

“I’m just getting into character!” Ian protests, taking another phony swing at Adam Rhett tries to block. He can’t have his Kenickie and Sonny giving each other black eyes. 

“Well cut it out,” Rhett scolds, and he sends the kids backstage to get their scripts. He’s not used to doing this alone and he doesn’t know what Link was thinking leaving him alone with these animals. They’re even rowdier than they were in the fall and it’s probably something to do with their looming graduation. Spring is still two months away but they’re antsy and eager to go, eager to get this play down pat and ready for April. Rhett doesn’t blame them. He can’t wait to get the winter behind him, either. Even so he tries to be as stern as possible; he wants them to think he means business this time. 

They see right through him but at least he tries.

“No, Ian, stop that!” he cries as Ian hops up and down on the set’s bleachers, borrowed from the gym for the song _Summer Nights_. “You’re going to break them and the gym teachers are going to kill me.”

“Aw, the Mr. M. who hates fun is back!” Heather teases, and she’s already in her full Rizzo getup despite Rhett telling her all over again not to wear out her costume so early on. 

“The Mr. M. who doesn’t run school plays is coming next if you don’t sit down!” he tells her, but his threats only calm them for a moment. Where the hell is Link? Rhett needs him to tame the wild animals like a zookeeper. He’s no good at it and for Link it comes easy. Rhett looks at his watch and he should be here. Great. He probably decided to avoid the shit show for another day. Lucky him. Rhett does his best to control the kids without him but they’re too excited to be calm. As they get used to the new play they’ll calm down but for now Rhett develops a headache between his eyes and dreams of his bed. 

It isn’t until he sinks, head in his hands, into a seat in the audience that the kids realize how exhausted he is. From there Amelia and Robbie have his back. He lets them take control of rehearsal, ordering the younger kids around and shoving their fellow classmates to where they belong onstage. Rhett’s too tired to thank them but when Amelia glances at him he gives her a thumbs up. She winks back. By the time the sun starts to set Rhett’s pretty sure he’s dozed off at least three times. But Amelia and Robbie have the attention of their cast now and no one seems to mind the director is more zombie than man. 

Fine by him. 

Link doesn’t show, leaving Rhett alone, and he writes a mental list of all the things he can throw at him when he gets to his place. He helps the kids stow away the scripts and costumes and he pats his leads on the back, thanking them for saving him.

“Only for you, Mr. M.,” Amelia says. “Have a good night!” She and Robbie are the last to leave before Rhett and he locks the door, loping in the cold to his car. By the time he gets to Link’s place he’s too tired to fight with him and he decides instead to fall into the apartment and let Link take care of him the rest of the night. The elevator takes forever and he’s dead on his feet, eyes sliding closed as he waits. This day felt like three and it’s not even Friday yet. 

He doesn’t notice anything is wrong until the elevator doors open on the top floor. There’s blood on the carpet, deep dark splotches of it, and the door to Link’s place is wide open. 

_No_ , his exhausted brain gasps. _No, no, no._ But he dashes to the door and he slips in blood, clutching to the doorframe to keep from falling on his face. There’s blood on the wall, on the light switch beside the living room sofa, on the door. Rhett steps into the apartment with his shoes slick with blood and this can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. 

“Link?” Rhett calls in a desperate attempt to pretend he’s here. No one answers. He’s alone. “Shit,” he hisses. “Shit, shit.” There’s a lot of blood here, way more than he thought could even be in a person, and he hopes it isn’t Link’s. It can’t be Link’s. Anyone who bled this much couldn’t possibly be alive and there’s no way Link is anything but alive. 

Right? Rhett rakes a hands through his hair and he has to think of something to do. He has to find Link; he has to call him and ask him where the hell he is and tell him someone left his place a wreck. Rhett fumbles with his phone and his call goes to voicemail. Of course it does. Link doesn’t answer him and Rhett calls him again and then again, throwing his phone against the wall when he gets nothing. It smells like copper in here and he’s going to be sick. He’s going to die if he doesn’t hear Link’s voice. 

But he’s not here and Link is probably already dead wherever he is. There’s nothing Rhett can do. He is just as gone as Stevie and Rhett’s alone, desperately so, and there is nothing he can do. 

“Shit!” he shouts like anyone can hear him, like Link could pop out at any moment and tell him he’s all right. “Shit!” He pounds through the apartment, throwing everything he touches, just to make some noise. He trashes the living room, smashing a lamp onto the floor, and glass crunches under his blood soaked shoes. 

Rhett told Link he loves him and then Link left him. He had to get himself in trouble; he had to get himself killed. Worse, maybe, held and tortured and hurt. Rhett can’t do anything but he has to. He can’t just break everything because Link broke him. 

There’s a pristine piece of paper held to the fridge with a piece of tape and it takes Rhett three tries to digest it, to understand. And when he does he sinks to the floor and lets blood seep into his jeans. 

“ _Mr. McLaughlin_ ,” the notes reads in handwritten script. “ _Sorry for the mess. Your lover put up quite a fight. Dreadfully sorry to tell you he chose the wrong people to set his sights on. This city is ours. And so is he. Don’t worry. We will not hurt him. We will simply hold onto him for a while. That is…until we get bored of him. Regards, a mourning brother_.”

So that’s it. They’ve taken Link from Rhett and he can’t get him back. He fought them and he’s probably already lying dead or dying somewhere far from Rhett, somewhere he can’t reach him. 

He can’t do this. He wipes at his streaming eyes and it doesn’t help much, not at all. He can’t see through his tears and he wishes he could help, he could do anything at all. But he can’t. What could he possibly do? He’s never going to see Link again and he’s going to sit here and die in his kitchen. It’s the only thing he can think to do. 

He’s still crying alone in the kitchen when Lizzie comes in saying something about the stains in the hall. Her red painted mouth slips open into a shocked O when she sees Rhett and closes when she reads the note. 

“Shit,” she says, and Rhett tells her he knows. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Rhett feels he should tell her the truth and point at his heart but he’s not stupid. She doesn’t mean anything like that. So he shakes his head. “Which one?” she asks. “Are you not okay or are you not hurt?”

“I’m not hurt,” he tells her. 

“Good.” She drops a hand to his shoulder and squeezes hard. “Now what do you say we make a plan and bring Link home?” 

 

Lizzie’s idea of a good plan is a lot different from Rhett’s. She has him wandering the streets at night with her close behind, far enough apart so they won’t look like they’re together. She follows him and they wait, wandering the night hoping a wayward vampire will spot them. If they do, Lizzie has a plan. It’s not a lot but it’s the best they have. Rhett calls Link relentlessly as he wanders, pressing the call button over and over like he expects an answer. It helps a little to keep him from running away as he walks. Link has been gone for less than ten hours and it feels like a year, like _ten_. Rhett keeps sniffling, his nose aching from crying, and he keeps having to stop and wipe tears from his eyes. 

He wishes he could do better. Link is probably already long gone.

His phone dies in his hand and he shoves it into his pocket, the screen cracked neatly in half from when he threw it against the wall. Only when Rhett holds his breath can he hear the clicking of Lizzie’s shoes a block behind him. He doesn’t know if any vampires are watching; all he knows is he hopes for the first time to see one. He wants to be in bed and he wants to cry; he wants to curl up and pretend none of this is happening. But he told Link he loves him and he pressed Rhett up against a wall and asked Rhett to marry him. Like he never meant anything more in his life. So Rhett owes him. He has to find him. He has to try his best to bring Link back to him. The gold ring on his middle finger feels far heavier than it has any right to as he paces the city streets. 

As dawn gets closer and they look up to realize they’re miles from Link’s place Lizzie catches up to Rhett and calls them a cab. He protests, not ready to give up, but the moment he sits in the cab and drops his head to her shoulder he’s asleep. She shakes him awake as she pays for the ride and she all but carries him back upstairs, dragging him along like a rag doll. He doesn’t want to go inside to see the carnage but Lizzie tells him to close his eyes, leading him to bed and closing him in Link’s room. He listens to the sounds of her cleaning up as he drifts in and out of sleep, the sun rising. By the time he has to get up for school the apartment looks untouched, perfect and clean. 

“Thank you,” he offers her. She rises up on her tiptoes to kiss Rhett’s cheek and tells him to please try and be calm today. They’ll look again tonight, she says, they’ll find someone tonight. He nods and lets her help him into his coat and push him out the door. 

He tries his best at school, downing cup after cup of coffee, but he’s so tired he gives his last class of the day a pop quiz just so he can sleep. He passes out on his desk and wakes up sticky with coffee when the bell rings. 

“Have a nice weekend!” he calls to his class, and the kids pass back their quizzes muttering like they think he can’t hear them. If he wasn’t so tired and so scared out of his mind he might scold them. But he is and he lets them go and it takes him five minutes to work himself up enough to get out of his classroom and meander to the auditorium. He lies down on the stage waiting for the kids to arrive and he wakes up with Amelia shaking him, concern quirking her voice up an octave. 

“Mr. McLaughlin!” she cries. “Are you okay?” He’s too tired. He can’t tell the truth.

“I’m okay, Amelia,” Rhett croaks, and the kids prop him up and pass him a mug of coffee anyway. He wants to tell them what happened, about the blood, about the note, but he can’t do it to them. He can’t let them feel a fraction of the panic churning in his stomach. Robbie is the first to speak and break the silence. 

“Tell us what to do and we’ll help,” he says. They know something is wrong, of course they do, but they don’t ask what. The rest of his cast is so quick to agree with Robbie he nearly cries. But he doesn’t. He thinks he’s cried himself dry. So instead he thanks them and tell them it’s fine, it’s all good, he can handle this. They look uneasy, exchanging glances, but they let Rhett change the subject. He does his best and he bids them goodnight and heads out again with Lizzie onto the streets. 

Rhett has to find Link. He’s desperately, completely in love with him and he’s not going to let him slip away from him. This is all he can do but at least he’s doing something. At least he’s trying. A shred of hope he keeps close to his chest and his weight in caffeine is all he’s got. 

But at least it’s something.


	11. XI

On the third night Lizzie and Rhett stalk the city streets they finally get what they want. Lizzie stops walking and Rhett pauses, waiting for her to catch up to him or say something. She does neither. He peers into the dark, the street empty. But it isn’t empty for long. A hand and then two erupt from an alley and snatch for Rhett, big hands with long and dirty fingernails. He doesn’t cry out. He doesn’t struggle. The person slams Rhett into the brick wall of the building they hid beside but before Rhett gets the chance to worry Lizzie is behind them, pressing Stevie’s silver blade into the small of their back.

“Hey, night crawler,” she breathes, and the vampire pauses with his teeth bared. He has narrow eyes, dark eyes, and the biggest mouth Rhett has ever seen. Like a shark, like a snake that could swallow him whole. But the vampire frowns, hands pinning Rhett to the building, and when he speaks his voice is like gravel.

“What are you doing?” he asks Lizzie, eyes on Rhett. She looks at Rhett, too, over the vampire’s shoulder, and she pushes the blade deeper into the fabric of his black pea coat.

“You get to live if you tell us where to find Link Neal,” Rhett replies for her. The vampire’s eyes narrow further but he is quick to try and hide it. 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he says. He opens his mouth wide and gets closer to Rhett’s neck but he doesn’t have time for this. He doesn’t have blood to spare. 

“Lizzie, cut his head off. If he’s not going to help us we’ll find someone who will.” Lizzie takes hold of the vampire’s shoulder and twists the knife, not quite getting through his coat yet. The vampire flinches so hard his grip on Rhett makes him smack him head on the wall. “Okay, ow?” Rhett says. “Can you just make this easy for us so we don’t have to kill you? Where is Link Neal?” 

“I am not afraid to die,” the vampire says. He looks it but Rhett lets him talk big. “Kill me. Even if I knew who you were talking about I wouldn’t tell you a thing. I haven’t stooped so low as to help a human in over one hundred years.”

“Liz, I’ve had enough,” Rhett says, and the vampire changes his mind the instant the blade touches his skin. 

“Okay, okay!” he cries, hands flying off Rhett’s shoulders. “Okay, I know who you’re talking about. Don’t kill me.” Lizzie throws Rhett the blade and blocks the only way out of the alley, looking a lot bigger than she is as she crosses her arms. The vampire wets his lips and Rhett watches his throat as he swallows. He’s scared. 

“You know who Link is?” Rhett asks, and he nods. “How?”

“He came in like a storm,” the vampire says. “I don’t know how he did it but he killed the head of my clan. The head! No one does that and lives.” Lizzie’s mouth drops open in horror but Rhett’s not convinced. Not yet. 

“Is Link alive?” he asks. Without the blade on him the vampire gets bravado back, his chest puffing out. 

“Why should I tell you? You only asked where he is.” 

“I am so not in the mood for this,” Rhett says, and the vampire squeals as Rhett shoves him into the opposite wall of the alley. He presses the knife to his throat, just between his collarbones, and he strains to look down at it. “Is Link alive?” Rhett asks, and the vampire nods. “Good.” Rhett can fake bravado just as well as the vampire can but there’s a difference between him and Rhett. He doesn’t know Rhett’s faking. He’s so shaken he thinks he could shake himself to pieces if he let his guard down. But he holds the knife to the vampire’s throat and asks him, “Why is he alive?”

“I assume the clan wants _both_ of you dead,” the vampire says. 

“Then why not take both of us? Why not just kill us both in Link’s apartment?” 

“Do you think I know everything that goes on with the higher up?” the vampire says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m only one hundred and ten. I have nothing on them. I don’t know a thing.”

“But you know where he is.”

“Yes.” He’s smirking, trying and failing to hide it, and Rhett presses the blade in just deep enough to cut. The vampire whines as blood slips down his chest, just a drop, and Rhett asks him for the truth. 

“Why is Link alive?” 

“You’re not going to like it,” the vampire says. He wants to gloat; Rhett sees it all over his face. He’s scared of Rhett but there’s something else, something he’s not saying. No problem. Rhett can scare him into telling. 

“You know, I can make this slow for you or I can let you go,” Rhett says. “Right here is where you decide how this is going to go. What do you say?” At the last word Rhett pricks him again with the sharp tip of Stevie’s blade, blood seeping hot onto the cold metal. The vampire groans, teeth bared, and Rhett feels a lot sicker doing this than he thought he would. But he’s done worse, he’s watched a vampire die under him, and he’s not going to kill this one. He won’t have to. 

The vampire swallows and tells Rhett to pull the blade off him. He obeys. The vampire sighs, touching his fingers to the blood on his throat, and he shudders.

“It’s never a good thing, to see your own blood,” he says. “Anyhow, my guess is you two took some very important people from us. From our clan. The man who left you a love note back at your boyfriend’s place? You killed his brothers. You and your boyfriend sure know how to make enemies. Any other vampire we probably would have called a loss. But you killed the leader of our clan. And his brother is not going to take that lightly.” The vampire swipes blood from his chest and licks it from his fingers, lapping at the pad of his thumb to get the last drop. “Oh, and I suppose they assumed you would find your way there. I can only imagine what they’re going to do to you in front of him to make him scream.”

It’s the hardest thing Rhett’s ever had to do to keep from pressing the blade in right between the vampire’s eyes. But he hasn’t told Rhett where to go yet and he knows he has no choice. Even if it means there are a hundred vampires waiting for Rhett, waiting to kill him, he has to go. Link would do the same for him. 

“Where do I go, then?” Rhett asks, and the vampire laughs. 

“If you go to him you’re not going to come out alive,” he says.

“Fuck off. Just tell me.”

“Your funeral. You are not going to like what they will do to you if you find him.”

“Oh, stop with the show. Just tell me where to go.” Lizzie edges closer to Rhett and he’s glad she’s here, someone on his side. But she’s quiet and scared and when she reaches him she clutches to his coat. The vampire eyes the open end of the alley and before he can move Rhett goes first. He stabs Stevie’s blade into the meat of his arm and uses all his weight to push it out the other side. The vampire roars, Lizzie wincing at Rhett’s side, and he twists it to bring the vampire to his knees. 

“If it’s a trap, it’s a trap,” Rhett says. “You can’t tell me they want me there and then go running when I ask for the goddamn address. What are you playing at?” The vampire scrabbles with his free hand at the tip of the blade, the metal scarlet, and Rhett twists it again to make him scream. 

“I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you!” he howls. “I was supposed to tell you! Every vampire in the city had orders to talk if we were asked about Lincoln!”

“So why didn’t you?” Rhett asks. Lizzie hangs onto Rhett’s sleeve and his other hand is getting covered in blood, the vampire looking up at Rhett with pained tears in his eyes. 

“I panicked, okay? I heard what you did to Henry. To Tybalt. I thought if I told you that you would kill me, too.”

“I was going to let you go, you idiot,” Rhett says. “Can’t say it’s looking too good for that now.” He’s not going to kill the sniveling vampire but he doesn’t have to know it yet. It feels a lot better than it should to hold the life of a monster in his hands. Rhett’s not ready to let it go yet. He twists the knife and follows the vampire as he crashes on his back to the pavement, both of them hitting the ground. Rhett straddles his hips with the blade buried deep in his arm and he says, “One more time. Where is my _fucking_ fiancé?” 

“Fiancé?” Lizzie and the vampire ask together, and the vampire growls up at her as she speaks.

“Yeah,” Rhett says, giving the knife and the vampire’s arm a wiggle. He can hear it slide against bone and he bites back the urge to throw up. “I bet you didn’t know you’re messing with the love of my life. I’m sorry I can’t let you get away with that.” Dazed, the vampire quiets. It only takes one move to get him crying out again. 

“San Diego!” the vampire howls as Rhett jerks his arm. “A nightclub on Hyde Street. On the corner of…ow!” Rhett eases up on his knife as the vampire pales, crying out. “Gee, thanks,” he says. His mouth is tight as he goes on. “On the corner of Hyde and 8th. Okay? It’s called Erzebet. Very exclusive, _night crawlers_ only,” he sneers up at Lizzie. “The whole clan is there; there’s a system of tunnels in the basement. Okay?”

Rhett ponders, tapping his fingers on the hilt of Stevie’s blade. “Okay,” he says, and he yanks it out. The vampire screams, blood flying, and Lizzie helps Rhett to his feet. “Have a good night,” he says, and he steps over the vampire and walks away. Rhett leaves him crying on the pavement and Lizzie clutches his hand, shivering violently as they hail a cab for home. Three cabs drive away when they see the state of Rhett’s bloodied clothes and he guesses he doesn’t blame them. They walk home in the cold and when they get up to Link’s apartment Rhett locks the door behind them and tells Lizzie she should go. 

“I’m coming with you,” she says immediately. 

“No,” Rhett replies. 

“Yes,” she says. 

“No!” 

“Yes, I’m coming, asshole! You heard him, you’re not getting out alive!”

“Exactly, which is why you’re not coming.”

“He said nothing about me. You need backup. I’m coming.”

“I won’t be responsible for getting you killed.”

“And I won’t stay here and let you get yourself killed.” She crosses her arms and she’s so much like Stevie, a force to be reckoned with. It hurts deep down where it shouldn’t anymore, deep in the hole in Rhett’s chest, and if she’s as much like Stevie as she seems there’s no fighting her. Rhett’s only choice is to give in. And so he does. 

“All right,” he says. “All right, fine.” Lizzie and Rhett tear Link’s apartment apart, digging through his dresser and his closets in search of anything to help. Rhett finds Link’s silver blade and he gives Stevie’s to Lizzie. She tucks it into her belt and thanks Rhett, quiet. He tells her he wishes she would stay here and be safe but he’s so grateful he doesn’t have to do this alone he could cry. It’s a long train ride from here to San Diego and he has to go to school; he has to beg forgiveness and ask for more days off. Sick days, vacation days, he doesn’t know. But he has to come up with something. Lizzie falls asleep on the couch just before dawn and Rhett shakes her awake to tell her he’ll be back after school.

“Stay here,” he says. “We’ll leave right when I get back.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” she says, voice bleary, and Rhett makes himself a mug of coffee and hopes it’s enough to keep him awake. The moment he sits down and takes a breath panic begins to creep in. Keeping busy kept it at bay but he can’t stop thinking now, imagining what Link is going through while he’s just sitting here. He feels sick, stomach churning, and he hopes Link knows he’s coming. He hopes Link doesn’t think he would just let him go, call it a loss, forget about him. Rhett buries his face in his arms and tries to shut his brain up before he goes crazy. 

He falls asleep at the kitchen table and he’s twenty minutes late for work, crashing through the front door and banging his way to the principal’s office. 

“Mr. McLaughlin,” Jay says, rising out of his chair as Rhett falls panting against his desk.

“Sorry I’m late,” he replies. “I need more time. I thought I was ready but I need more time. Please, can I leave today and come back next week? I can’t do this, not right now, I can’t sleep and I can’t sit still and I think I might be dying. Please, please tell me I don’t have to do this. I need more time.” Rhett rambles and he scares the shit out of Jay, the poor guy passing Rhett a tissue from his desk like he might burst into tears. Knowing his mental state he wouldn’t be surprised. 

“Take all the time you need, Rhett,” Jay says, more than a little alarmed at Rhett’s ragged breathing. “I mean that. Take care of yourself. Are you…are you sure you want to work today?”

“I need to see my cast before I fuck off,” Rhett says, startling Jay even more. He’ll be lucky to still have a job after this but at the moment it’s not really his biggest problem. “I need to work today. Thank you, Jay. Thank you, thank you.” Rhett dashes out of his office before Jay can change his mind and he’s half an hour late to his first class. They have been amusing themselves, drawing dicks on the dry erase board, and Rhett lets them continue. It’s fine by him. 

“I need a nap,” Rhett tells his class, and they look at one another like this is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to them. He could give them a lesson or two about weird. They have no idea. “Do you mind?”

“No, Mr. McLaughlin,” a girl in the front row says, and before anyone can agree or protest Rhett drops his head to his desk. His forehead clunks on the wood and he’s too tired to care. He’s asleep before his head stops pounding.

 

Rhett’s calmer by the time he makes it to the auditorium at the end of the day. He’s giving himself five minutes and nothing more. He doesn’t want to drag this out; it’s going to hurt enough as it is. This is probably going to be the last time he ever sees these kids, the kids who have saved his ass over and over since the fall, and he squares his shoulders and tells himself not to cry. Not to show weakness. If he wavers they will try to stop him. He has to feign confidence, bravery. It’s not like this will be his first time.

The kids are practicing their hair and makeup when Rhett walks in and they look so good he almost runs away instead of committing to what he planned. Amelia dotes on Heather, pinning her long hair up with bobby pins to give her Rizzo’s short mop of curls. Robbie, Ian and Adam share a container of blue colored hair gel, Robbie scooping up globs of it and slicking it into Ian and Adam’s hair. They sit obediently still as he works, tongue between his teeth, and Heather sees Rhett first. 

“Mr. M., I need your help!” she squeals as Amelia pulls at her hair. “Amy is trying to convince me to cut my hair for the part but I don’t know if I could pull it off! What do you think?” Rhett drops into his seat front row center and tells her,

“You could pull anything off, Heather. If you’re feeling brave, go for it.”

“I told you he’d say to do it,” Amelia says, smug, and Heather swats at her hand with an unconvincing scowl on her face. 

“Listen, guys,” Rhett says, and all heads turn towards him. They stand frozen. Somehow they know just as well as Rhett does that this is nothing good. He tries to make it fast. “I can’t stay,” he says. “I have to go.”

“Where?” Amelia asks. 

He breaks into the tale and tries to keep his voice from quaking as hard as his resolve. “Link is in trouble,” he begins, and the room goes completely still. “Turns out the serial killer wasn’t the man he killed. Who knew. Anyway, it was the head of a vampire clan, you guys, and Link killed him. And the clan took him from me. So I have to leave right now and rescue him but I just wanted to tell you, I just wanted you to know, in case anything happens to me…” Rhett wipes at his nose and tries to keep his composure. With all eyes on him it’s a lot harder than he expected. “If I die I just want you guys to know I love you. I don’t know where I’d be without you and I’m sorry I’m such a shit teacher sometimes. I know I can be a bastard but I know you accept me anyway and I just wanted you to know how much you all mean to me. Don’t forget it.”

He sniffles and Robbie breaks the silence. He’s getting good at it these days. Rhett should tell him he’s proud before he loses his chance. 

“Where is he?” Robbie asks, and Rhett’s an idiot and Rhett tells him.

“San Diego.”

“Hmm,” Robbie says, looking at his cast mates. They look back at him and they understand the same time as Rhett does.

“Robbie, no,” he begins, but Robbie cuts him off.

“We’re coming with you,” he says. 

“Robbie, no.”

“With all due respect, Mr. McLaughlin, you’re kind of an idiot,” Ian says. 

“Yeah, you can’t announce a rescue mission for the man we love right in front of us and expect us not to want to come along,” Amelia agrees. 

“No one is coming with me,” Rhett says, and he gave himself five minutes and it’s already been three. He doesn’t have time for this. He has to go. He stands up and the kids follow suit, flying off the stage and flocking to Rhett’s side. 

“You can’t stop _me_ ,” Robbie says, arms crossed. “I’m an adult and I make my own choices. I’m coming with you.”

“I’m eighteen, too,” Amelia says, and Heather says she is, too, and there’s no way in hell she’s not coming. 

“I don’t care how old you are, this is not a debate.” They have never listened to Rhett and he shouldn’t be so surprised things aren’t changing now. He feels a headache coming on and he can’t believe they were having a heartfelt moment just a second ago. 

“Try to stop me!” Robbie snaps, his old petulant self, and the kids start pulling on Rhett’s arms for attention. They act like piranhas, intent on pulling him apart, and he ducks around them and backs away. 

“I’m going to miss you guys,” he says. “And I might even think about you as I die. Who knows. But none of you are coming with me and that’s final. Do I need to call your parents and have them start picking you up?” 

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” Robbie asks, and Rhett knows. He knows that but it doesn’t make this any better. He should have left a minute ago and he feels like he’s getting nowhere. 

“Yes, Robbie, I am perfectly aware,” Rhett says. “But you’re going to miss me and tell everyone how great I was when I get my throat ripped out by a vampire. So don’t give me so much shit, will you?”

“I’ll tell everyone you were an asshole,” Robbie says. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Well, thanks,” Rhett snaps. “Goodbye.” He spins on his heels and he doesn’t want to leave them angry like this, hating him and feeling mutinous. But he has to go. He marches towards the exit and he hates this, he hates everything about this, but a pair of arms wrap around him from behind and he freezes.

“I’m never going to forgive you if we have to finish this play without you,” Amelia says, squeezing Rhett around the middle with her face between his shoulder blades. “Be careful.” 

“I’ll do my best,” Rhett tells her, and he turns to face her when she lets him go. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Ian calls, keeping his distance. 

“Don’t talk to strangers!” Manny adds. 

“Kick some serious ass, Mr. M.,” Adam says. The kids wish him good luck, all speaking at once. Robbie is the only one who stands back with his head down, looking anywhere but at Rhett. He wishes he didn’t have to leave this way. It would be easier if he thought they didn’t need him as much as he needs them. 

He’s halfway out the door when Robbie pulls him back by his sleeve. “Give them hell,” he says. “For my brother.” 

“I will, Rob,” Rhett says. He squeezes Robbie’s shoulder and he looks away, pulling back, and he disappears into the auditorium. “I’ll see you guys soon,” Rhett says despite everything, despite all of them knowing it’s probably not true. They say it back anyway and they wave as Rhett drives away, tears in his eyes. He can do this. That was the hardest part, the goodbye, and from here on out the rest will be easy. It has to be. There’s no way it gets harder than watching his kids break down.

Rhett drives as fast as he can all the way back to Link’s place with nothing left to do but try not to think too much. For once it’s hard. He could be hurt, he could be dying, and Rhett’s not doing anything. The drive feels miles longer than it has ever felt and Rhett presses the gas down to the floor. He hopes Link knows he’s on his way. The hope is all he has.

 

Lizzie and Rhett don’t speak on the train, the ride a lot longer than he can stand. He aches all over, exhausted and cold and spent, and Lizzie looks no better off. She’s pale and shaky and Rhett is, too, downing Red Bull and trying not to scream. By the time they arrive in the city it will be dark, the sun already sinking as the train barrels out of Los Angeles. Rhett can feel his knife in the inside pocket of his windbreaker, the metal cold through his T-shirt. Lizzie fingers hers at his side and he whispers for her to stop touching it. Knives are not exactly acceptable to carry on a train. 

“You know, I still live with my mother,” Lizzie says after Rhett scolds her for the fifth time. “I’ve been lying to her about where I’m going for weeks. I’m skipping school to be here with you. I really, really hope I don’t die because my mother _would_ die without me.”

“Don’t remind me you’re breakable,” Rhett tells her, because up until now she has been anything but. 

“You are, too,” she says. “In case I die, I want to put my mother’s number into your phone. Fork it over.” Rhett does after assuring her she’s the last of them who’s going to die and she babbles about her mom while she taps away at Rhett’s phone. “I love her but she’s a worrier. If she wasn’t such a worrier I might have actually told her I’ve been spending all my spare time with a vampire.”

“How old _are_ you?” Rhett asks, and she slaps his arm. 

“You sure have a lot of pictures of Link in your phone,” she says instead of replying. Rhett regrets letting her come with him more the longer he sits with her; no matter how old she is she’s still a young girl who lives with her mother and Rhett can’t let anything happen to her. He slouches in his seat and tries not to throw up.

“I love him,” Rhett reminds her. 

“Yeah, I can see th- Ew!” Lizzie tosses the phone at him and he catches it, a picture he took of Link tied to his bed on the screen. 

“Oops,” Rhett says, and if there weren’t a lot bigger things to worry about he might be a little more embarrassed. 

“Are you really into that stuff?” she asks. 

“Yes,” Rhett says. “Want details?” The question quiets her and he’s glad; the less they speak the easier it is to swallow back the panic edging in on him. They still have over an hour to go on the train and Rhett scrolls through his pictures, chest tightening. Lizzie is right. Rhett does have a lot of pictures of Link. It makes him dizzy to look at them, to look at his smile, and before Rhett can stop himself he’s calling him. The phone rings and it’s only about the five hundredth time Rhett’s called him and the five hundredth time he doesn’t expect an answer. Even so his heart drops when the call goes to voicemail and he wishes he could open the window and throw his phone out into the wind. 

“He’s okay, you know,” Lizzie says, and her presence doesn’t make Rhett feel so good anymore. She shouldn’t be here. He can’t believe he let this happen. 

He’s going to make her get off at the next stop. They’re an hour outside of the city and Rhett can hope the worst of the night will be over by the time she makes it to him. He doesn’t want to do it, leave her stranded at a train station, but it’s better than the alternative. It’s better than losing her. He should leave her money; he should at least make sure she knows where she is. But he wants it to take her as long as possible to reach him. He wants her to miss the fighting. 

“Why are you so fidgety?” she asks, dropping a hand to Rhett’s thigh to still him. 

“I have to pee,” he lies, and the train eases to a stop at Lizzie’s destination. “Can you show me where the can is?” he asks. She stands to let Rhett by and she beckons him towards the back of the train car, saying something about the bathrooms being in every other car. He doesn’t hear much. The doors open and people spill out, milling onto the platform, and Rhett doesn’t have long. In one motion he picks Lizzie up off her feet, scooping her into his arms and stepping out of the train. It’s going to start moving soon and he puts her down outside, pulling up the hem of her coat to make sure she still has her knife.

“Rhett, what the hell are you doing?” she asks, but she knows. There’s fury already building in her face, her mouth twisting down with it. 

“You’re staying here,” Rhett says. “I’ll call you when I’m out of it. Please, please don’t try to come to me. I promise I’ll come back here for you. After.”

“Rhett, no!” She tries to get past Rhett, to get closer to the train, but he blocks her as best as he can. The train inches forward and there’s no time for this. He has to go. “Rhett, you stupid asshole, you can’t just…!” 

He doesn’t hear the rest of what she says. He shoves his way through the door just as it slips closed, Lizzie reaching for the glass a moment too late. She leaps backwards as the train slides from the station, her eyes wide, and he shouldn’t have let this happen. He mouths to her he’s sorry, he’s really sorry, but as the train pulls away he can see her stomping her feet and swearing at him. He knows exactly what she’s saying even though he can’t hear her. Once she and the station are out of sight Rhett throws himself back into his seat, thankful no one in the car seems to have any idea what he’s done. No one looks at him. That’s just how he likes it. He’s going to pay for leaving her later but it’s worth it. The guilt he feels for leaving her would be nothing compared to having to call her mother and tell her, _hey, I’m a total stranger but I’m calling to tell you your daughter is dead and it’s all my fault_. It’s better this way.

He keeps telling himself that but the rest of the train ride is even more painful than the first half, Rhett’s hands laced tight and his chest knotted up. The sky grows darker, shades of orange and then shades of blue, and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. He has a lot of ideas, thoughts of crashing through doors and demanding Link back, but he has the feeling bursting through anything would cost him his life. 

There are a lot of people on this train and Rhett thinks he would give a hell of a lot to trade places with any of them. They can’t be worried about much. Normal things, things that used to bother him. Maybe parking tickets, credit card bills, doctor’s appointments. Things he would love to worry about now. 

Maybe another time. He’s going to get Link out of there if it’s the last thing he does. He just hopes it isn’t. He wonders if this is anything like what Link felt when he climbed up onto a bridge with the intention of jumping off. If he felt the way Rhett feels now he doesn’t blame him for his decision. Rhett’s limbs are heavy and his heart is pounding and more than anything he just wants this to end. His guess is Link’s thoughts weren’t much different than his.

No matter how many times Rhett squeezes his head between his hands he can’t get his brain to shut up with things that won’t help him. It’s not like there’s much he can do to actually prepare himself but maybe he could think of something if he could think of anything but Link and the way he tastes. 

The world goes dim outside the train and Rhett sinks lower and lower into his seat, terrified of what’s waiting for him in the city. He won’t be able to do this; he’ll probably get his head ripped off before he gets within a block of the nightclub. What was it called again? His tired, fuzzy brain can’t quite get a hold of it and he panics briefly, heart leaping up into his throat, but it comes to him. Erzebet. The club is called Erzebet, of course it is, probably named after the only vampire just as infamous as Dracula. It’s good to know vampires are just as weak as humans when it comes to shitty, gimmicky names for nightclubs and bars. Good. 

The train pulls to a stop in its final destination and Rhett is the last one off, ordering his limbs to move him long before he gets them to listen. The station is packed, people bumping into him when he doesn’t move fast enough. He stumbles through the building feeling half awake at best and he zips up his coat as he heads for the exit. He might as well hurry up. Get it over with. Face death head on and all that. He just hopes they let him see Link before they kill him. The vampire from the alley said they might torture him to get Link to talk so at least he can hope for that. He can see Link that way and it might be better than going out without getting to say goodbye. 

He tries not to worry about the way thoughts of getting tortured to death comfort him. He bursts out onto the pavement and tries his best to blend into the crowd. It’s a breezeless night, the air dry, and warm air gusts from vents below. Rhett keeps his head down and weaves his way around people and cars as best he can. The streets are easy enough to navigate, the numbers going up as Rhett heads down the sidewalk, and he’s only a mile from the nightclub. He doesn’t have much time. Not to change his mind, to run away and go home, to think of a plan to stay alive. Nothing in him wants to turn around but he’s not stupid. He knows he should. He’s alone and he shouldn’t be; he shouldn’t be here at all. 

The streets are alive and no one sees Rhett. He doesn’t receive a second glance, not even when he runs full on into people; they step around him and keep going. He bounces off people and tries to do the same. No one expects anything from him, be it an apology or a fight. He’s invisible. He tries not to get used to the feeling. Once he arrives at the club he’ll be the person everyone is looking for. If he had more time he might be able to think of something besides knocking on the front door. But he has no time and he has nothing. 

There are still Christmas lights strung up in doorways and they make Rhett think of Stevie. So he does have one thing. He has something that feels like fire burning in his chest, the thought of what the vampires did to Stevie pushing him forward. He can’t let the same thing happen to Link; he can’t let them hurt anyone else. Not if he can help it. 

By the time Rhett closes in on the club his knees quake and his feet are numb. His eyes water from the cold, his hands shaking in the pockets of his coat, and he doesn’t know what to do. People pass him by and they don’t look at him. They don’t know he’s probably not going to live through the night. He guesses that’s all right. He doesn’t matter all that much in the grand scheme of things and it’s probably going to suck, the whole dying thing, but there’s not much else he can do. Before he can have a debilitating existential crisis he doubles back a couple steps. He bums a cigarette off a stranger leaning on the wall of a convenience store and they offer him a light, cupping the tiny flame in their palm like there’s any sign of a breeze. When Rhett starts gulping smoke the stranger raises his eyebrows at him, his own cigarette burning down between his fingers. 

“I’m on my way to rescue my fiancé from the grip of a homicidal horde of vampires,” Rhett explains, and the stranger nods.

“Ah, this is pretty stressful. Here.” The man sticks a second cigarette behind Rhett’s ear and digs in his pocket for a moment. “Have a smoke on me when it all goes well.” He passes Rhett a lighter, a small thing in flimsy pink plastic, and Rhett slides it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Thanks,” he say. He’ll need it. 

“Is she pretty?” the stranger asks, and Rhett asks him,

“Who?”

“Your fiancée.”

“Oh,” Rhett says. His lungs burn as he holds smoke in. He releases it, long and slow, to the starry sky. The stranger watches him. “He,” Rhett replies. “And yes. He’s beautiful.” 

“Hmm,” the stranger grunts, and Rhett watches him as he drops his smoke and puts it out under his shoe. “That makes sense, then. Beautiful boys tend to be trouble.” He reaches out to shake Rhett’s hand and he accepts it, the man’s fingers engulfing his. “Good luck. Make sure to thank me in your wedding speech.” 

“Without a doubt,” Rhett replies, and the stranger pushes off the building and offers Rhett a wave before walking away the way he came. Rhett’s cigarette burns the tips of his fingers and he flicks it away. All right. Good. He’s wavered enough. It’s time to go. With his throat aching and his hands tingling he closes the distance between him and Erzebet. 

This is the stupidest thing he has ever done. Sure, he fell in love with a vampire. Sure, maybe he went home with a stranger from a bar and when he bit Rhett he didn’t run for his life. Maybe he asked for this when he didn’t take one look at the glitter on Link’s face and decide he was too much for him. Rhett doesn’t know. Sure, he let Lizzie come along for the ride and ditched her in a strange place. That was a new low. But this is even worse. Rhett walks down the street with his face turned up to watch the street signs and this is without a doubt the stupidest thing he has ever done in his life. This is the worst decision he has ever made; this is _definitely_ …

One body and then two slam into Rhett’s back and this time they don’t bounce off. Two pairs of arms wrap around his biceps and before he can open his mouth to cry out they drag him backwards and into an alley. He takes in a deep breath to shout and a tiny hand closes over his mouth, a sharp voice in his ear. 

“What are you going to _do_ , Mr. M., walk through the front _fucking_ door?!” 

“No,” he pleads, but Amelia has both arms around one of Rhett’s and as she holds onto him in the alley three heads poke around the corner. 

“Hey, you stupid son of a bitch,” Ian says, and Robbie and Adam smile as they flank him. Once the three of them have the alley blocked Amelia lets go of Rhett, Heather following suit on his other arm. They grin at Rhett and he is going to _kill_ them.

“What are you doing?!” he whisper shouts, clapping his hands to his head.

“We followed you,” Heather says. Rhett looks at her and she doesn’t even have the decency to shrink back. She beams. She has her hair done up still, just like Amelia did it at rehearsal, and they must have ran for it the moment Rhett left. The boys still have their hair slicked back, all attitude as they block the alley, and Rhett is definitely going to have to kill them.

“What were you thinking?!” he asks. “You can’t be here!” 

“Right,” Robbie says. “And you were just about to walk through the front door of a secret vampire hideout in the hopes of it going well for you. You need us.”

“You really would have just waltzed in and accepted your death, Mr. M., wouldn’t you?” Amelia asks, and he doesn’t like the tremor in her voice one bit. He’s not worth this; there is no reason for them to be here, willing to risk their lives for Rhett. He’s going to kill them or he’s going to cry and he doesn’t like either option much at all. 

“Yes,” he finally tells her. “And you guys are going to accept it, too. Please go home before I have to beg you. I’m not letting you come with me.”

“Like we’re going to let you walk in there planning to die!” Robbie shouts. “We won’t let you! You’re fucking crazy if you think we would!” 

“If you don’t go home right now…”

“What?” Robbie cries. “What? What can you do to me? You don’t scare me, Mr. M. You’re not the one who killed my brother. They are. And I’m going with you to get them for what they did. Do you hear me?” Robbie’s eyes shine with tears and Rhett wants him to be quiet, to make this easy, but none of them ever planned to do that. They have never, ever let Rhett talk them out of anything. They are just as bad as him. 

“I hear you, Rob,” he says. “But I can’t let you come with me. Think about your mom, Rob, if no one else. She already lost one kid and I am not going to be the one to tell her she’s lost the other! Do you hear me?” Robbie opens his mouth but Heather claps a hand over it. Robbie’s eyes go wide, his hands flying to his face, but Heather bears down and gives him a look Rhett doesn’t see. 

“We’re wasting time,” Heather says. “I love you, Mr. M., I really do, but you’re the biggest idiot I have ever met. We are coming with you and you can make a choice. You can let us come with you and we can figure this out together or you can keep fighting us while the vampires who want you dead have Link. Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want Link to die. So can you please shut up, quit whining, and let us help you?” She looks hard at Rhett, her palm pressed to Robbie’s mouth, and Rhett chances a glance at the kids circling him. They all look the same, mouths pressed in hard lines, and their eyes gleam as they stand spending seconds in an alley. And Heather is right. Link doesn’t have time for this; Rhett doesn’t have time for this. He doesn’t have a choice. He has to let them come. 

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. Fine. But if any of you get yourselves into trouble I will never, ever forgive you. Do as I say and don’t do anything stupid. Don’t go off alone and don’t leave anyone behind. Don’t attack anyone and don’t go looking for a fight.”

“But…” Robbie says around Heather’s hand, and Robbie has always been a pain in the ass. Hard to get along with and harder to teach, rude and stubborn and damn near impossible. But he is here now and he jumps when Rhett claps a hand on his shoulder.

“Except for you,” Rhett says, and his eyes fill up again with tears. Heather lets him go and he asks Rhett if he means it, if he is going to let Robbie fight back. “If you do what I say and stay with me.” He nods. “Okay. Great. It’s settled. Rob is my right hand man. The rest of you, I want you to stay as far from this as you can. Let’s get closer and try to figure this out. All right?” Five heads bob up and down, five pairs of eyes flying wide. They’re scared and Rhett’s glad. The alternative is a group of kids scared of nothing, eager to race in and save the day, and that’s how they would get themselves killed. This way is better. This way they have a chance. It’s not a good one and Rhett’s stomach is in knots, his heart in his throat, at the thought of losing any of his kids tonight. But there’s nothing he can do about it now. They have their minds made up and so does Rhett. They are doing this together. 

Rhett leads the way and they follow him close behind, the nightclub looming closer. If there was a last second moment to turn back now would be it. But the moment to give up was back home, back where they started, and they’re far from home now. The only place to go is Erzebet. The only choice is to push forward. And so they do. 

“I can’t believe I’m leading a group of children into battle,” Rhett says, anything to lighten up the grimness, and Amelia is the only one who laughs. The rest of them look between each other and don’t say a thing. That’s all right. Rhett’s scared, too. 

“I can’t believe I’m following a man who was going to walk through the front door,” Robbie says after a quiet moment. “No common sense at all.”

“Thank God you have us,” Ian agrees. He holds tight to Amelia’s hand and Rhett glances back at them, the kids who are stupid enough to do anything for him, and he tries not to panic. It won’t help, not now. 

Up ahead he sees a flash of red, the sign for the nightclub lit up in neon. The front of the brick building is nondescript, the front door painted black. Red light dances across the pavement before Erzebet as the sign boasting the name blinks and stutters. As far as Rhett can see the buildings flanking the club are apartments, one locked up and closed with a padlock and the other with the front door banging open and closed despite the stillness in the air. 

He thinks and he thinks fast. 

“Heather and Amelia, I want you two to head into the apartment building,” Rhett says, pointing to the open door. “Try and find a way to get into the club through the apartments. Text me if you find anything.” The girls nod, Ian tightening his hold on Amelia as she tries to pull away. He reels her back in for a kiss and she smiles, bouncing on her tiptoes to kiss him back. Rhett might throw up. What if something happens to one of them? To both of them? He can’t be responsible for this, for ripping them apart, but they break the kiss and Heather and Amelia link arms. The determination on their faces is almost too much to handle. They are in this. They’re in just as deep as Rhett is.

Great.

“Be careful,” he says. “The first sign of danger, I want you to run. Don’t look back but don’t separate. Take care of each other.”

“Done, done, and done,” Heather says, and Amelia nods, stern, in agreement. 

“See you soon,” Rhett tells them and the girls dart together into the brightly lit lobby of the apartment building and disappear. He’s left with the boys and he looks between them, Ian’s eyes on the building where Amelia wanders and Adam staring back at Rhett. By instinct or by careful thought Robbie stands directly at Rhett’s side, his arm brushing Rhett’s as they face the other two. 

“Okay,” Rhett says, and Ian tears his gaze from the apartment building. “She’ll be okay,” Rhett tells him. “Listen, I want you two to stay outside and stand by the front door. Just try not to look too suspicious. Text me if you get approached, if you see anything weird. Or if the girls need me. If you need me. Can you do that?” They glance at one another and they nod.

“Great. Thank you.” Rhett claps his hands together and lets them fall to his sides, Robbie waiting expectantly beside him. 

“And us?” Robbie asks. 

“We’re going to waltz in the front door.”

 

Erzebet may be a nightclub swarming with vampires who want Rhett dead but it’s still a nightclub. There’s no high security camera they have to disable, no security guards waiting to block them from getting inside. Robbie and Rhett leave the boys outside and they walk straight through the front door. 

Inside it’s just like any other seedy club, music pounding and bodies everywhere. People sway and dance and pace the dance floor, the bar crowded so tight people bump elbows as they drink. It’s dimly lit, most of the light supplied by black lights and strobes, a rainbow bouncing off the walls. Robbie stands so close they touch from shoulder to hip as they take the place in, the people lining the walls and the bar. 

“Busy,” Robbie says, and Rhett nods. 

“Good,” Rhett replies. He doesn’t know how likely they are to be attacked, how likely it is there are any vampires on this floor at all. If the vampire in the alley was telling the truth the vampires are downstairs somewhere in a system of tunnels below. And they have to get down there. 

“What’s the plan?” Robbie asks. He has to ask twice, the music is so loud, his lips pressed to Rhett’s ear.

“Dunno,” Rhett replies. “Gimme a minute.” As they stand still Rhett’s glad he managed to get most of the kids out of danger, the boys outside and the girls in a brightly lit apartment building. He’s worried about Robbie, he’s damn near sick with it, but if anyone is coming out of this alive it’s him. He’s tough, Rhett thinks, and he tells himself he’ll be all right even though Rhett knows Robbie’s stubborn streak is wider than his own. He wants revenge for his brother and if Rhett could change his mind he would. But he can’t. He has to figure something out, something that will get them both out of here, and the longer he stands here the harder it gets. The music is getting to his head.

They get a couple glances as they stand motionless by the front door and Rhett drags Robbie to the bar, desperate to get all eyes off them. If someone knows who to look for, if anyone knows who Rhett is, whatever plan he can come up with is doomed before it begins. Rhett brushes his hair down over his forehead and in front of his ears as they snatch up seats at the bar, lowering his head. 

“Let me know if anyone looks at me funny,” Rhett tells Robbie. 

“Well, what does funny entail?” Robbie asks, waving off the bartender as he asks what they’d like to drink. “There’s a guy in a booth who I think wants to get you out of your pants. Is that funny?”

“Shut up, Rob,” Rhett says. 

“Might as well, I think he’s actually looking at me.” Rhett gives Robbie a sideways glance in time to see him give the man leering at him the middle finger. 

“Rob, if you get yourself killed by a regular guy you jilt in a bar I’m going to kill you myself,” Rhett grumbles. Robbie doesn’t hear him and it’s just as well. He shouldn’t threaten the only ally he has like that. Whether he likes it or not he’s here for Rhett and he’s not entirely sure he regrets it much anymore. 

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asks Rhett again, and he scowls when he orders a ginger ale.

“What?” Rhett asks. “You never get stomachaches in a bar?” 

“You know what? Can I get a gin and tonic?” Robbie asks, and leave it to a place run by vampires to neglect to check IDs. Robbie gets his drink and Rhett gets his and he really ought to stop Robbie. It’s his duty as his teacher, isn’t it? But he probably needs it. Hell, Rhett probably could use a drink himself. But he sips at his ginger ale and gets fizz up his nose and chokes on it, Robbie clapping him on the back as he tries to hold it in. He doesn’t want anyone looking at him. He doesn’t want anyone to recognize him and sound the alarm, locking the place down and ripping his head off his shoulders. 

“This is really gross,” Robbie says, and without speaking they swap their drinks and Rhett downs his in one go. He grimaces and smacks the glass down on the counter and waits for Robbie to finish his ginger ale. 

“Rob, I have to tell you something,” Rhett says, and Robbie points to one ear and tilts his head closer to Rhett. He cups his hand around Robbie’s ear and says,

“If we get out of this alive I am going to owe you for the rest of my life. Just don’t let it go to your head.”

“Aw,” Robbie says, and he wraps one arm around Rhett’s shoulders and squeezes. “Don’t worry. I know there’s nothing you can offer me. So, you know. No reason at all for it to go to my head or anything.” He laughs as Rhett shoves him away, the both of them sliding out of their stools, and they hit the floor and head for the other side of the bar. There has to be an entrance to the tunnels somewhere, a way to get downstairs. They just have to find it. Robbie starts at one wall and Rhett starts across from him, the two of them heading towards the middle near the bathrooms. There’s nothing near the bar, no doors or anything, and Robbie shrugs at Rhett from across the room. No luck for him, either. 

Rhett’s phone goes off in his pocket and he almost drops it in his rush to read the text, a message from Ian. “ _Heads up_ ,” he types, “ _a crazy girl named Lizzie said she’s looking for what sounds like you. She said to tell you if you’re not already dead she’s going to kill you_.”

Shit. This couldn’t get worse, everyone Rhett tried to send away coming for him. He can’t even shake people off right, something he has been good at all his life. When he needs it, of course, they come flocking. He shoots Ian a text asking where she went and he replies,

“ _I sent her around to the back of the building. Is she a vampire?_ ” Rhett doesn’t get to reply. A beam of light hits him in the face and he looks up into it, throwing an arm up, and Robbie shines the flashlight from his phone into Rhett’s eyes. Rhett shrugs to ask him what he wants and with one hand he points to the door at his back. Rhett tries not to make it too obvious as he races across the nightclub to his side. 

“Think this is it?” he asks. 

“I guess we’re going to find out.” Rhett moves Robbie out of the way and he turns the doorknob. It’s locked. “Shit!” he cries. “Shit!” 

“Know anything about picking locks?” Robbie asks. Rhett doesn’t. He doesn’t know anything, nothing at all, and he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s hopeless; it’s a lost cause. There’s nothing he can do and he’s going to get all of them killed, the kids who look up to him and the kids who trust him. Lizzie wanders outside and Rhett is going to lose her, too, and all of this is going to end in dying. It’s useless, absolutely useless, and he can’t think of anything but Link and what is happening to him as Rhett stands here, worthless. 

“Shit!” Rhett shouts again, and just as he gets ready to turn away and try something else the door slams open. Robbie cries out in pain as the door pins him to the wall, a fast and blurry someone shoving their way out into the club, and they breeze by Rhett without even looking. He watches them go, a man with one arm held close to his chest, and Robbie shouts Rhett’s name.

“The door, Mr. M.!” he cries, voice muffled by the door between them, and Rhett catches it the second before it slams shut and locks. They haven’t even gotten to the basement yet and Robbie already sports a bloody nose thanks to the door slamming into his face. 

“You okay?” Rhett asks, holding the door open with one foot. 

“Oh, fantastic,” Robbie says. He mops at his nose with his sleeve and gestures for Rhett to go first. He does. He goes without even looking, moving without thinking, and the door closes before he can get a good look at anything. The hallway, the staircase, wherever they stand goes pitch black as the door screams shut and Robbie curses, squeezing Rhett’s arm in the dark. He gets a handful of the meat of Rhett’s bicep and it hurts, his fingers tight, but he doesn’t shake him off. It’s okay. He turns on the flashlight on his phone and blinks fast to get used to the light, head spinning.

They stand in the middle of a three way intersection, three hallways disappearing into blackness. It’s chilly in here, the air damp, like a system of caves that goes on forever. Robbie gulps at Rhett’s side and says, “Uh, you first.” He doesn’t let go of Rhett’s arm as he gets a text from Amelia and pauses to read it, Robbie reading over his shoulder.

“ _In the basement_ ,” she says. “ _Seems all the buildings connect by the basement?_ ” Rhett texts her back, the beam of his flashlight bobbing, and he tells her to be careful. To let him know if she finds anything. He reminds her to stay with Heather no matter what happens and Robbie waits, restless, at Rhett’s side. 

“What if they get to the vampires before we do?” Robbie asks, and Rhett doubts he can see the pained look Rhett gives him in the dark. He’s mostly shadow to Rhett, the slope of his nose and his shining eyes all he can see. 

“Don’t say that,” is all Rhett can say, and he points his flashlight down each of the three halls. One hallway is painted red, the one to their left. The one on the right is painted white. And the one in front of them slopes down and out of sight, the walls painted black. Rhett has the feeling that’s the way they have to go. “Down here,” he says, and again Robbie audibly gulps beside him. “Robbie, you can always turn back,” Rhett reminds him. He jumps a foot in the air when Rhett drops a hand to his shoulder but right away he shakes his head.

“No way, Mr. M. You’ll die without me.” 

“Right,” Rhett says. “Let’s go.” He follows Rhett, clutching onto his arm, and as the floor slopes downwards the air gets colder. If Rhett had to dream up his own vampire lair this is exactly what he would come up with, the hallway dank and cold and dark. It’s something straight out of Dracula, something even he could have predicted, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. Whatever waits for them at the end of the line is what’s unpredictable. 

“You know,” Robbie says, tripping over Rhett’s shoes as they walk, “Erzebet Bathory was a vampire.” He’s quiet for a moment and Rhett listens to him breathe in short little bursts. “What if she’s waiting for us? Do you _know_ what she did to people?” 

“I know, Rob,” Rhett says. “But she’s been dead for, like, what? Five hundred years? Stop stepping on me.” Robbie steps on his heels again and Rhett rolls his eyes. “You’re okay, Rob,” Rhett assures him. He doesn’t know it for a fact but it’s all he can offer at the moment as they take clumsy steps together. “I’m not going to let Erzebet Bathory get you, that’s for sure.” 

“You’re such a dick, Mr. M.,” he reminds Rhett, like he’s forgotten. 

“I know that. Do me a favor and try to remember I’m not your enemy here, yeah?” 

“I’m not fucking stupid,” he says. 

“I know that.”

“What’s the best way to kill a vampire?”

“You’re not killing anybody.”

“But what if you die and I have to hack my way out of here?”

“Take my knife,” Rhett says. “Doesn’t matter where you stab them. If you get them with it they’ll die just as well as a person would.”

“Hmm,” Robbie says. They both trip as the floor dips down further and they stumble into the wall, Rhett’s flashlight pointed towards the floor. For a minute or so he lets Robbie rest. Not like Rhett doesn’t need it, too. He’s pretty sure it’s his breath he sees in the air, the hall so cold Rhett starts to lose feeling in his hands. Robbie shivers beside him as they lean on the wall. Rhett checks his phone but he has no service down here, of course he doesn’t, and he can’t really do anything but hope the rest of his kids don’t need him. 

“You know,” Robbie says after a moment, “I’ve had fantasies about killing my brother’s killer for weeks. I wanted to face them and make them see how much they hurt me. You know. Make them feel it, too. But you know what?”

“What?” Rhett asks.

“I think I’ll settle for cutting all of their heads off instead.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Robbie cracks his knuckles and rolls his neck and Rhett doesn’t like this, not one bit, but there’s nothing he can do. If he wants a fight he’s going to get one. Rhett just wishes there was a way he could make sure Robbie gets out of this alive. If it comes down to it he’ll offer up himself. Rhett for all the kids and Lizzie. They can do whatever they want to Rhett. As long as the kids get to go free, he doesn’t care. He almost laughs to himself as he makes his decision; he’s not as brave as he’s pretending to be. Robbie turns to look at Rhett and he tries to hide the twisted smile on his face. He doesn’t want Robbie to see. As far as he knows Rhett’s a lot more confident than him. Rhett wants him to keep thinking so until the very end. If he can manage it. That’s how he wants to go.

“Ready?” Rhett asks, and Robbie nods. They keep going. Robbie starts to cough and he tries to stifle it, the air thick and musty. It feels almost like swimming as they walk. Robbie coughs into his sleeve but it still echoes down the hall, loud and clear. Rhett doesn’t try to shush him. If someone hears them, someone hears them. They’re not hiding. They have to face the vampires sooner or later. 

Even as Rhett tells himself it would help to happen upon someone to use as target practice he hears two voices getting closer. He presses Robbie to the wall and steps in front of him as the voices approach despite his protests. 

“Be still,” Rhett whispers, and of course Robbie never listens to him. Not ever. He fights against Rhett and the voices get closer, their conversation muffled. 

“Let me get them,” he says as if he can, and Rhett throws both arm around him to yank him back. He slams into Rhett’s chest and he drops his phone on the dusty floor, flashlight down. Robbie and Rhett wrestle in the dark and the voices talk about getting a drink, heading up into the club to find someone to drag down, and all right. Maybe Robbie has the right idea. 

“Get one on the ground,” Rhett whispers, mouth at Robbie’s ear. “I’ll get the other. Hold them down until I can get to you. Don’t get bitten.” Robbie nods. Rhett lets him go. With one hand he scoops up his phone and just as the two vampires loom into sight Rhett gets the flashlight back on. 

“What the…!” one of the two shouts, and as they throw their arms up to protect their eyes Robbie slams the one who speaks to the ground. Rhett goes for the other. It’s a small, stocky man a foot shorter than Rhett but a lot thicker. Rhett pulls his knife from his pocket and without giving him a chance to speak, to defend himself, to make a case for his life, Rhett ends it. He slams the knife into his temple and he hits the ground, head hitting the floor. Robbie has his hands around the throat of the other vampire and Rhett steps on the shoulder of the one he killed, getting leverage to yank the blade from inside his head. 

“Ew, Mr. M., what the fuck?” Robbie asks, the blade making the grossest, slickest sound Rhett has ever heard as he rips it free from the vampire’s skull. The vampire on the ground tries to speak but Rhett pushes Robbie out of the way and gets the bloodied blade against his throat. 

“Link Neal,” Rhett says, and as he presses the vampire to the floor he passes his flashlight to Robbie. He makes sure to direct the beam right into the vampire’s streaming, bloodshot eyes. “Where is he?”

“Ah,” the vampire chokes. “You’re here.”

“Yes, yes, I’m here. Where is he?”

“You’re going the right way,” the vampire says, closing his eyes against the flashlight beam in his face. “Unless you want to live. Then I would suggest going back.”

“I’m not in the mood for this,” Rhett says, and he gives the vampire a slash across one cheek that makes him roar. “How many are there between me and him?”

“Piss off!” the vampire scowls. 

“How many?” Rhett demands. He doesn’t know where this came from, the power to make the people in his way bleed, but now that he’s started he can’t stop it. He slams his blade into the vampire’s shoulder and asks him again, the vampire crying out in pain. As much as Rhett wants to he doesn’t pull back. He can do this. He can make them bleed. Each and every one of them. 

“Twelve, maybe?” the vampire says. 

“Shit,” Robbie hisses, and Rhett gives him a look that makes him wither. “Sorry,” he says. 

“Thanks,” Rhett says. “You said this is the right way?”

“Yes,” the vampire nods. 

“If I wanted to surprise them, what would be the best way to go?”

“You can’t surprise them. They probably already know you’re here.” The vampire leers up at Rhett and he presses the blade in deeper to get him to stop. “If you make me scream they will _undoubtedly_ know you’re here.”

“Good point,” Rhett says. “Thanks for the advice.” He rips the blade from the vampire’s shoulder, the metal scraping muscle and bone, and before the vampire’s shouting can rise and echo down the hall Rhett raises the blade above his head and brings it back down. The blade sinks deep into the vampire’s chest and silences him. For a long minute Rhett stays exactly where he is, still, hardly daring to breathe. Robbie reminds him they have to keep moving. He helps Rhett to his feet, he hands over his flashlight, and he tells Rhett,

“You’re amazing.”

“Just stupid,” Rhett assures him, and Robbie gestures for Rhett to go on. He does. As far as he can figure he’s only gotten started. He wipes his blade on his pants and keeps going down. Two down. And twelve to go.


	12. XII

The hallway ends in a spiral staircase too long for Rhett’s flashlight beam to reach the bottom. Robbie leans far over the wrought iron railing and Rhett takes hold of the back of his pants to keep him from slipping forward and landing on his head. When Rhett pulls him back Rhett shines his light so he can see Robbie and Robbie can see him.

“This is your last chance to turn back,” Rhett tells him, and before he finishes his sentence Robbie shakes his head. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Robbie says. “Who knows? Grease could be my big break. If you’re not around to direct how will I ever make it?” He claps Rhett on the back and Rhett guesses if he could have anyone down here with him, Robbie Hanson isn’t the worst option. 

“Are you ready, then?” Rhett asks.

“Well, yeah. As I’ll ever be.” 

“Okay.” Rhett takes a deep breath and inches forward, pressing the toes of one sneaker on the top stair like it might crumble beneath him. When it doesn’t he inches a little more, Robbie so close behind him he steps on Rhett’s heels again. He doesn’t mind all that much. At least he knows Robbie’s here.

“If you don’t hurry up I’m pushing you down the stairs,” Robbie says, and Rhett almost tells Robbie it’s fine by him. Instead he picks up the pace. Their footsteps echo loud down the staircase as they go, sneakers slapping at the metal. Rhett gets dizzy from the way it twists, his head spinning, and more than once Robbie makes a grab for him to keep from falling. They keep each other steady as best they can. Rhett shines his light down at the floor and he still can’t find the bottom, the air so thick he can hardly breathe. Robbie coughs and chokes behind him and at least he’s not alone. He feels what Rhett feels and it makes it better, just a bit. 

“I miss my brother,” Robbie says through a ragged throat.

“I know you do, Rob. And I miss Stevie.”

 

“How easy is it to rip a head off someone’s body?”

“Pretty hard, I imagine.” Finally Rhett’s flashlight beam lands on solid ground. “Oh, shit.” He hops off the stairs and Robbie lands behind him, snatching up Rhett’s arm again as they peer down the hall. 

“See anything?” Robbie asks.

“I only see what you see, Rob,” Rhett replies. He clings to Rhett and Rhett leans forward, trying to see as much as the hall as he can. There is nothing behind the stairs and nothing to the left or right. The only way to go is forwards down the empty hall. 

“What do you think happens to people who wander down here looking for the bathroom?” Robbie asks. 

“Nothing good,” Rhett replies. Together, tripping over each other all over again, Robbie and Rhett creep down the hall. There’s a light coming from far away, soft yellow light at the far end of the hall, and Rhett makes sure Robbie stays behind him as they get closer. 

“Is that them?” Robbie asks in his ear.

“No, Rob, it’s the Justice League having an underground meeting.”

“No need to be so mean, Mr. M.” He’s right but Rhett can’t help it. He should know by now it’s Rhett’s default, his go-to, the only reason he’s not shaking in a heap on the floor. He has control over one thing and that’s how he handles himself. How he keeps cool and how he approaches this calmly, carefully, putting thought into every step. 

And then he hears a scream. 

“Who was that?” Robbie asks, but Rhett’s heard that scream a thousand times before. He heard it when he released the cast list for Beauty and the Beast and he heard it when Link called Ian out on his schoolboy crush. 

“Amelia,” Rhett says, and Robbie wavers where he stands. 

“No,” he breathes.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s Amy. Let’s go.” All semblance of calmness gone, any hint of detachment he could muster vanishing with it, Rhett snatches up Robbie’s arm and drags him towards the light. There is no other scream, no other sound, and Rhett can’t imagine what would make her scream. What could be happening to her as he races down the hall, who could be touching her or hurting her while he’s too far away to help. 

As the light gets closer he can hear more noises, more chattering, more scuffling. Something is going on just around the corner, something he can’t see. But it can’t be anything good. He skids to a stop against the wall and throws himself towards the light, Robbie gasping and panting just behind him.

“Amy!” Rhett cries, darting around the corner. The room emanating light is empty. There’s nothing here, no one, the walls barren. The only things in the room are a light on the ceiling and one door. Robbie looks at Rhett with eyebrows raised and Rhett looks at him. He says what Rhett’s thinking.

“What the hell?” he asks. 

“Good question.”

“This is the weirdest place I have ever been.”

“Join the club.” With his knife in his hand Rhett makes his way to the door on the other side of the room, juggling his phone to reach for the knob. 

“Wait!” Robbie says. “What if they’re all waiting on the other side?”

“Then we’re in big trouble,” Rhett replies. “Ready?” Robbie looks at Rhett like he’s crazy but he nods. Of course he’s ready. He’s Beast, he’s Danny Zuko, and he doesn’t back down from anything. They burst through the door, leaving the darkness behind, and run headlong into Amelia.

“Ow!” she shrieks, bouncing off Rhett so hard she stumbles backwards. Heather catches her in both arms and sets her on her feet. Before Rhett can tell them how happy he is to see them Amelia’s knees give way and she and Heather tumble to the ground. 

“Whoa, hey!” Robbie cries, dropping to the floor to peer into Amelia’s face. She has a bloody cut under one eye, the eye half lidded and swollen, purple and red. She touches her cheek, just under the cut, whimpering as Robbie fawns over her. Heather looks a little better off but as she looks up at Rhett, eyes wide open, he sees the blood splattered across the front of her sweater. Rhett can’t find the source and Robbie murmurs to Amelia as Rhett joins them on the floor in a room just like the one before. 

“What happened?” he asks, hands flying over Heather’s shoulders as he turns her body looking for the source of all the blood. She shakes Rhett off and tells him it’s not her blood, she’s fine, she’s not hurt. 

“We found a way in,” Amelia says, Robbie dabbing at her cheek to stem the flow of blood. “We got attacked.”

“And we killed ‘er!” Heather finishes, using Rhett’s shoulder for leverage as she heaves herself to her feet. “She had this on her,” she says, Robbie whistling low as she yanks a shining silver stake from inside her bloodied cardigan. “Amelia shone her flashlight in her eyes and I grabbed it from her. These guys really think they’re invincible. They make it too easy.” She beams down at Rhett, wiping scarlet blood from the stake in her hand, and when he looks back to Amelia she’s grinning just as widely under Robbie’s roving hands. 

“And you didn’t want us,” Amelia says. 

“I was wrong,” Rhett replies. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve never been better,” she tells him. Robbie helps her stand and she wipes at her eye with her sleeve, shaking like a leaf. 

“Are you sure?” Robbie asks.

“Oh, shut up, Robbie. You look a little gruesome yourself.” She flicks him on the nose and he cries out, clutching his bruised up nose and swearing. 

“All right, all right, now is not the time. Where did you guys come from?” Rhett asks. 

Amelia gestures behind her and says, “I think we got turned around at some point. The girl was the only person we saw. We just kind of left her in the hall. We didn’t know what else to do.” Rhett assures her it’s all right, so glad the girls are alive he could drop to his knees and cry, but there are four other bodies he has to make sure get out of here alive and they don’t have time to spare. 

“Okay,” he says, and he takes his position in front of his kids. “Let’s go.” 

 

The longer they spend lost in the halls the more Rhett starts to panic, his stomach weighed down with worry as they hit a dead end for the third time. They end up back where they found the girls and Rhett kicks at the door, twisting his foot in the process so badly Robbie has to take half his weight until they get lost again. Once they realize they got turned around he forgets the pain, dragging his hands through his hair as Robbie swears and punches the air. 

Link needs Rhett’s help and Rhett can’t get to him. 

“Mr. McLaughlin, please don’t freak out,” Amelia says, but they know him. They know him and they know he’s not one to hold up well under pressure. He’s going to break if they don’t find their way out of this soon. All the halls look the same, the walls black and narrow, lights blinking fuzzily on the ceiling. They shiver and shake, all three kids taking turns stepping on the backs of Rhett’s sneakers, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can do this without breaking down. He’s not cut out for this; he’s not a hero. He’s not brave enough to be here; his hands shake hard enough to make light dance, sporadic, off the silver of his blade. 

The kids begin to chatter to occupy themselves and if that’s what it takes to keep them from panicking just as much as Rhett is it’s all right by him. 

“When we get back I think I am going to cut my hair,” Heather says. She pulls bobby pins from her up do as they walk, leaving them like a trail of breadcrumbs behind her. If they had thought of it sooner the gesture might have saved them a panicked half an hour or so but Rhett doesn’t tell her that. It’s not her fault she’s being led around by a clueless idiot just like the rest of them are.

“Really?” Amelia asks. “But you’ve been growing it out since the sixth grade!”

“I know,” Heather says. “So I’m kind of sick of it. This role is the kick in the ass I need to pull the trigger, I guess.”

“Well, I’m not cutting my hair,” Robbie says, flipping back the hair that’s fallen out of its perfectly gelled pompadour. 

“Good thing you don’t have to make any sacrifices, Rob,” Heather replies. “Unlike some of us.” She tosses her hair at him and he chuckles, kicking a stone out of his way. It skitters across the concrete floor and disappears down the end of the hall. 

“Have we seen this hall before?” Heather asks, and Amelia biffs her on the back of the head. 

“Does Mr. M. look like he wants to joke right now?” Amelia asks, and Rhett apologizes for the look on his face. 

“I’m just trying not to think about what’s waiting for us,” he tells them, and for a beat they grow somber. But they can’t keep it up for long. 

“Do you think it’s like a cave, with bats hanging off the ceiling and shit?” Robbie asks the girls, folding his arms across his chest to imitate a sleeping vampire. The girls giggle and if they’re at ease, Rhett can be at ease. It can’t be that hard. They laugh and joke and Robbie finds his rock and kicks it again, the pebble skipping across the floor. But this time something stops it before it hits the wall. A black leather boot comes down on it, stopping the pebble as it flies across the concrete, and as the kids freeze behind Rhett the rest of the vampire looms from the darkness. 

“Good evening,” he says. “We thought we heard someone.” He jerks his chin up, greeting someone behind Rhett and his kids, and the girls cry out as two vampires take them by the arms. In the second Rhett spends looking at the man and the woman holding onto his girls the third vampire closes the distance between them.

He doesn’t even have time to raise his blade before the vampire takes it from him. 

“Cute letter opener,” he smiles, all teeth like a shark, and he pockets it. At Rhett’s side Robbie fingers his phone, getting ready to light up his flashlight, but the vampire catches his hand. “I was told you came here looking for a fight. I thought I was lied to. Guess not.” The vampire rips the phone from Robbie’s hand and drops it on the concrete, the screen shattering and going dark. 

“Anyone else have something on them they don’t want anymore?” the woman vampire asks, Amelia fighting uselessly against her scarlet painted talons. No one says a word. Robbie is looking at Rhett and Robbie wants to know what to do; he wants orders. But Rhett has nothing. He has his phone and he doesn’t want it taken from him. The girls have theirs and they keep just as quiet. Rhett doesn’t have a plan. Not yet. But the kids are getting out of this. It’s all he promised them and it’s all he’s going to aim for. 

The vampires begin to kick at the heels of the girls and the vampire in Rhett’s face beckons them forward, eyes shining black. 

“We have a very special someone waiting for you,” the vampire leading the way says. “I have to say he doesn’t seem all that happy with you. You are in big trouble when he sees we’ve found you before you could find him.”

“Shame,” the female vampire laughs at Rhett’s back. If he could turn around and sneer at her he would. But she has her talons on Amelia’s throat and he won’t give her any excuse to hurt Amelia. All he can do for the moment is keep his eyes forward and ignore the vampire’s jabs as best he can. 

“You know, I have to be honest,” the vampire says. “I heard so much about the way you killed that I imagined you a lot different.”

“How so?” Rhett snaps.

“Stronger,” he says. “You don’t look a day over thirty. I find it hard to believe you’re much of a killer at all.”

“Tell that to your dead friends,” Rhett replies, and it’s the wrong thing to say. The vampire stops so short Rhett slams into his back and he doesn’t have time to breathe before he has Rhett pinned to the wall with his forearm, Rhett’s throat crushed by his elbow. Heather screams and Robbie goes for the vampire’s arm, trying to get him off Rhett, but the vampire throws Robbie off like he weighs nothing. 

“You are going to pay dearly for what you’ve done,” the vampire says. He spits on Rhett’s face as he talks, his teeth gleaming with it, and Rhett wants nothing more than to spit back. But the kids are looking at him and they didn’t come here to die. Rhett backs off. 

“Right,” Rhett says, wheezing under the vampire’s elbow. “Can’t wait.” He lets Rhett go. Rhett slides down the wall and Robbie catches him, steadying him on his feet as the vampires watch. 

“Are you ready to keep your mouth shut or do I need to cut some tongues out?” the vampire holding Heather asks, a man with a long, crooked nose and long, crooked teeth. 

“I’d like to keep my tongue,” Robbie says, and the girls nod along with him. The vampires say nothing. The one in the lead jerks his head and they follow. 

“Where are we going?” Rhett asks. 

“To pay your boyfriend a visit, you dolt. Who the hell did you think we were talking about?” Rhett’s heart leaps up into his throat. He wants to see Link, to see his face and make sure he’s okay; he wants to tell Link he’s sorry to his face before they kill him. But Rhett can’t keep his mouth shut and he corrects the vampire, kicking him in the back of his boots for good measure.

“Fiancé,” he says.

“What?” 

“He’s my fiancé. Not my boyfriend.” From behind Rhett the girls shriek and Rhett hears the vampires gasp in surprise, a chuckle bubbling up in his chest despite the weight on it. 

“He asked you to marry him?!” Amelia cries. 

“Wait, did he get on one knee and everything?” Heather adds.

“Wait, wait, was it really romantic? Did you cry? Oh my God! Did _he_ cry?”

“No one cried,” Rhett assures them, and at his side Robbie bites at his lips to try and keep a smile back. For the first time Rhett’s truly glad the three of them are down here with him. Even trapped between three vampires with sharp fangs and sharper fingernails they can’t control themselves, their normal perfect, annoying selves. Rhett watches the vampire ahead of him lose his patience a moment before he erupts, his shoulders tensing as he wheels on Rhett. 

“Will all of you shut up?” he shouts. His voice echoes and again spit hits Rhett’s face. This time he wipes it off and makes sure he sees.

“I’d rather not,” Rhett says. 

“I would get in a lot of trouble for killing you right now,” the vampire says. “But it just might be worth it.” 

“You are too easily broken, Casper,” the woman vampire says to the one who spits at Rhett. “They’re playing with you and you’re falling right into their hands. If you want to get them to shut up I have one suggestion.”

“What’s that?” the spitting vampire, Casper, snaps at the girl. 

“Start cutting pieces from them until they get the picture. I think fingers would be a good place to start.” Rhett turns away from Casper to look at her, at the two vampires and his girls, and the female vampire digs her fingernails deep into Amelia’s shoulder.

“Ow!” she cries, twisting away, but the vampire holds tight. 

“What do you say?” the girl asks. As the vampires bicker, Casper fighting the other two on the merits of harming the kids, Rhett nudges Robbie with one hand. He gets the message quickly, squeezing Rhett’s fingers as he pulls away to tell him he understands. By the time Casper pays Rhett any mind the lighter Rhett borrowed from a stranger outside is in Robbie’s palm, his thumb hovering over the button to flare it into life. He waits for Rhett.

“You can start with me,” Robbie says, and as Casper sneers at him Rhett looks at his girls. They have one shot at this and Rhett wants all of them on the same page. He looks down at their pockets where he can see the bulges of their phones, and once they glance down in unison to see where he’s looking he nods. They get it. Their eyes open wide and they’re smart. They don’t look at one another. They look at Casper, his eyes on Rhett. 

He catches on a split second too late. 

Rhett elbows Robbie and the lighter flicks on, Robbie twisting to press the flame into Casper’s exposed throat. He roars, shoving away from the burning flame, and Amelia and Heather move so fluidly in sync it looks choreographed, planned. They turn on their flashlights and point them at the other two vampires, buying seconds, and Heather drags the silver stake from inside her sweater. She doesn’t have perfect aim but it’s good enough; the stake sinks into her captor’s stomach and comes out wet on the other side. Heather howls in disgust, Amelia already shoving the female vampire back, and Heather struggles to get the stake out of the dead vampire. 

Casper makes a blind grab with one hand over his eyes and Robbie is ready. He kicks Casper in the chest, Casper slamming into the wall, and Rhett has his blade back in his hand a moment later. Robbie passes it to him and he doesn’t waste time, jamming it into the first bit of Casper he can find. He gurgles, the blade in his throat, and when Rhett rips it out he sinks to the floor. The girls still grapple with the stake, shouting at each other as the last vampire blinks fast trying to see. 

“Should we help them?” Robbie asks, panting at Rhett’s side. He points his lighter towards the girls and Rhett shrugs as the female vampire stumbles blind.

“I think they have this under control.” He wipes blood from his blade and this is really getting old, the whole slicing and dicing thing. Do vampires really get joy out of it, out of killing so many people? It must get boring after a while. As the girls slide their stake from the belly of the dead vampire Rhett grapples with his sliding emotions, his brain so scrambled he can’t pick one and stick with it. He needs to focus. He needs to be clearheaded when they go into this. He needs to calm down and stop thinking about losing Link because he’s not going to let that happen.

He needs to do something to get his mind off the way Link breathes when he sleeps curled up at Rhett’s back. “Move, please,” Rhett says to his girls, and they shoot him identical withering looks as he steps around them. “Right here,” he says to the stumbling vampire, and when she looks up three feet to Rhett’s left and snarls he shoves his blade up under her chin.

Yeah. This is definitely not for Rhett. The girls finally get their stake free and they fight over who has to wipe the blood on themselves, bickering so loudly it echoes down the hall. Rhett drags his blade out of the female vampire’s head and grimaces at the squelching sound it makes as it pops out. He doesn’t like anything about this. At least the kids seem okay. Finally Heather loses the fight and wipes the blade clean across her chest. It smells like copper in the stuffy hall and someone cries out when Rhett looks down at his hands and realizes he’s up to his elbows in blood. 

“Oh no,” one of the girls says, “I think Mr. M. is going to pass out.” He’s not going to, he’s really not, but what he does is lean on the wall with one arm and dry heave. 

“Oh no,” Heather says, and the two girls leap to Rhett’s side to pat him on the back. Robbie watches from a safe distance with one fist held tight to his mouth. Rhett understands. He would barf, too, if he saw anyone do it. He’s not offended. Finally something comes up, his stomach heaving, and as fast as the girls leapt to Rhett’s rescue they step away. 

“What, Mr. M., never killed anyone before?” Heather teases. The capacity these kids have to still be messing around with Rhett even now borders on insanity. 

“Like you have!” he shoots back, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his windbreaker. There’s sweat rolling down his back despite the cold and he doesn’t want to be in this hall anymore in the presence of three dead undead vampires. He leads the way and the kids follow. 

 

Rhett hears Link long before he sees him. He can hear Link’s voice through the wall, muffled by distance, and the kids bump into Rhett as he freezes.

“What is it?” Robbie asks, but Amelia gasps.

“Link,” she says. Robbie pauses at Rhett’s side and listens, head cocked close to the wall, and Rhett can’t hear what Link says but hearing his voice makes him weak at the knees. He’s alive, he’s really alive, and Rhett didn’t realize how much of him was sure he wasn’t. 

“Shit,” Rhett breathes. “Shit.” He’s alive and Rhett has to get to him. He slaps one hand against the wall and he tells the kids they have to hurry, they have to find Link. Just as he breaks into a jog and the kids dash to catch up Rhett hears Link’s voice change. Link stops talking. He goes quiet. And then he roars.

“Oh, no,” Heather whimpers, and Rhett doesn’t pause to hear anything more she says. He runs.

“No, wait!” Robbie calls, but he can’t. Link cries out in pain and Rhett doesn’t know how far he is, how much longer he has to go, and the kids chase after him shouting his name. Link goes quiet again and Rhett stops running, waiting to hear his voice so he can figure out which way to go. He doesn’t know what else to do. 

“Please,” he breathes. He doesn’t know who he’s asking but he hopes they’re listening. “Please, please.” And Link cries out again just as the kids catch up to Rhett. They pull at his sleeves and try to get him to stop, please, to listen to them before he runs into a trap. But he doesn’t care. If he gets to Link and he’s hurt, if he’s damaged in any way…

Rhett tries not imagine his face marred with blood but it’s a lot harder than it should be. 

“Mr. M., hey, wait!” Robbie pleads. “You’re going to get yourself- slow _down_!” The kids slip and trip trying to keep up with Rhett, his sneakers skidding on the damp floor as he runs. He’ll apologize to them later; he’ll thank them later. But the only thing pounding through his head, through his chest, is one thought. He has to get to Link. Being reduced to a single reason, a single purpose, is almost freeing. It empties out Rhett’s brain, clears the cobwebs, and he thinks he might have this. He might be able to accomplish something, to fix this. 

“You won’t help him if you run straight into a fucking horde of vampires, you stupid idiot!” Robbie shouts. He’s right and Rhett knows it but when has he ever been rational? He’s not going to start now. Link shouts again, his voice rising up an octave, and the sound gets clearer as Rhett rounds a corner. The hallway he finds himself in is different. It’s longer, the ceiling sloping downwards. And it’s the end of the line. There are no more hallways to the left and right, nowhere else to go. There is just a single door at the other end of the hall, a black door left ajar. The kids bump into Rhett again as he skids to a stop, his chest heaving hard enough to hurt. 

The shouting comes from the other side of the door. 

“Mr. M., please think about this,” Robbie says, his hand heavy on Rhett’s shoulder, and he nods. Okay, he’s right. This won’t work; he can’t just rush in and expect everything to work itself out. 

“You guys have your flashlights ready?” Rhett asks, and the kids nods as he begins to tiptoe down the hall. They follow him. “Heather, do you have the stake?”

“Yes,” she breathes.

“You okay with using it a bit more?”

“Oh, yeah,” she says.

“Good.” Rhett pauses to look back at her and she looks at Rhett, mouth open. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Mr. M.,” she says, and he wishes she wouldn’t. He tells her so and she hushes him as they get closer to the door, close enough to see the shadows of people moving beyond it. Rhett’s calm, he’s being safe. He is not going to put himself or the kids at risk for as long as he can help it. 

And then Link screams again. 

“Mr. M.,” Heather says, her voice a warning, but Rhett doesn’t listen. In three long strides he closes the space between him and the door. Before the kids can get a hold on him he throws it open. And three things happen at all once. He steps into the room, the kids grabbing for him. Three vampires come out of nowhere, slamming the door shut behind them and pressing them close together. And Link calls Rhett’s name.

His voice shuts out everything else. Rhett looks up, his arm in the grasp of a vampire, and Link is here. He’s here and he’s alive and he’s looking at Rhett. There is a fourth vampire, one standing just behind Link, and it’s only when Rhett sees the blade in his hand does he remember the reason he ran here. Link is here and Link is bleeding. There’s blood on his face, coming from his nose and a cut on his cheek, and there’s blood pooling in the collar of his shirt. There’s blood on the knife in the fourth vampire’s hand and that’s all Rhett needs to see. He lunges, snarling, towards the vampire, and as he flinches and puts Link between them the vampire holding Rhett yanks him back.

“Rhett,” Link says again, and it’s not like he hasn’t said Rhett’s name a million times before. But he’s never said it like this. He’s pleading with Rhett, he’s angry with Rhett, his eyes wide and bright and scared. He’s bound to a chair in the middle of a room with stone walls, bound with silver chains that leave angry red welts on his wrists, and he’s pleading with Rhett. Rhett gets dragged against the chest of the vampire holding him and Link arches up out of his chair, bloodied lips open as he tries to get closer to him. The vampire standing behind Link does nothing to try and stop him. So it’s useless, then. 

Rhett watches Link give up and it’s a lot harder than he thought it would be to look him in the eye. “Rhett,” he says again, anguished. “Rhett, why are you here?” 

“I couldn’t leave you, now could I?” he snaps. This isn’t right. None of this is right. The kids are quiet and Link’s eyes flick to them, his chest heaving as panic sets in. 

“You should have,” he says, and the vampire behind him beams. They love this. The vampires stand still and enjoy the show, looking back and forth between Link and Rhett with glee in their eyes. “And the kids?” he asks. “Rhett, what were you thinking?”

“He made us stay home, Link,” Heather says, Link turning his terrible betrayed expression on her. She doesn’t shrink from it. “He tried, Link. We came anyway. Don’t be mad at him.”

“Mad at…” Link breathes. “Mad at him? I’m not…Christ. I should be mad. But I’ve never been happier to see someone in my entire life.” Relief floods through Rhett as Link’s eyes soften behind blood splattered glasses, his mouth twisting up in pain as he eases back into his seat. 

“Did you think I wasn’t going to come?” Rhett asks. 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t,” Link says. “But I’d be lying if I said I’m not relieved beyond measure to see you.” Link cranes his neck to look upside down at the vampire behind him and he says, “This is Rhett. The love of my life. Rhett, this is Byron. He’s not very talkative.” The vampire, Byron, gives the vampires flanking Rhett a look he knows well, a look that says _what the hell am I supposed to do with this guy?_ It’s a look he’s gotten a thousand times, from Stevie more than anyone, and no one pays Rhett any mind as his hand tightens around the blade in his fist.

They are going to get out of this. 

“Can we get on with this, please?” the vampire holding both girls says, a vampire with flaming red hair down to his shoulders. Rhett counts the mistakes the vampires make in underestimating them as he finds them. Mistake number one: one vampire thinks he can keep both of Rhett’s girls in check. They look at him and he gives them a nod, one he hopes they can read. _I’ll give you a sign_ , it says, and the girls know him. They give the tiniest of nods that only Link sees because he knows to look for it. He looks at Rhett, blood crusting over in one eye behind his glasses, and he winks. 

He was screaming a minute ago, lashed to a chair, and he winks at Rhett. Is there still time to decide Rhett’s in over his head with him? He gets the feeling the time for that is far behind him.

“What are we getting on with?” Link asks. The change in him is so sudden Rhett’s head would spin if he had never seen it before. But he knows this. Link can turn it on like a switch, the brave face, the aristocrat, the brat. He’s not scared like this. And if he’s not scared, neither is Rhett.

“This,” Byron says, and Amelia claps her hands over her eyes at Rhett’s side as Byron brings down his knife. Link cries out, the light in his eyes blinking out, and Byron twists his blade into the meat of Link’s shoulder.

“Shit!” Link barks. He looks at Rhett, his jaw set tight, like he’s saying he’s sorry. He doesn’t have to apologize for showing pain. Christ, he doesn’t have to do that. Byron rips the blade out and showers the side of Link’s face in his own blood, Link letting out a roar that echoes around the room. 

When he falls silent so does everyone else. The girls pull on Rhett’s sleeve and Robbie sways where he stands like he might pass out but Rhett can only see Link. So maybe he’s not as cocky as he seems. Maybe he doesn’t think there’s a way out of this. He grimaces, dark blood oozing from the fresh hole in his shoulder, and Rhett gets yanked back by his captor before he even realizes how he strains against his hands. 

“Link,” Rhett pleads. _Don’t give up; don’t look at me like you think I should._

“It’s okay, Rhett,” he says. “Let them have me. I started this. Just don’t let them take you.” 

“We’ve already got him, Mr. Neal,” Byron reminds him, and again Amelia hides her face as Byron slashes across Link’s cheek with his blade. 

“You think you have him?” Link asks. He blinks blood from his eye and he looks up at Byron, his mouth twitching up in pain. “No one can hold Rhett down. Not even you.”

“And I suppose you did?” Byron asks, wiping the blade clean on Link’s bloodied button down shirt. 

“Nope,” Link says. “Not even for a minute.” 

“Can we please cut the crap and get these kids served up?” the vampire holding the girls whines. “I’m really hungry here.” 

“I’m not in the mood to be vampire food,” Heather barks, and she steps on Rhett’s foot. She wants to go; she wants to get out of here. He knows. But he’s trying to get them all out. He’s trying to think, to come up with a way to get the kids and Link out of here. He’s not the best at plans, his brain muddled, but he’s going to get them all out of here even if it kills him. 

“Will all of you stop talking for once?” Byron asks, and the three vampires clam up. “Thank you. Now in case you all have forgotten, these two killed my brothers. And you are going to wait here _patiently_ and _quietly_ until I’ve finished with them. And then you can eat whoever the hell you want. Got it?”

“No, no, I don’t really like that,” Amelia says, like she thinks Rhett’s going to let that happen. Like she thinks he’d let her down. Clearly he has a bit more teaching to do about loyalty and taking care of one another. Actors can’t work together if they don’t trust each other and if Amelia doesn’t trust Rhett he’s going to have a hard time getting her to listen to him. 

As if he doesn’t have enough to deal with. 

“Amy, hey,” Rhett says, and Amelia jerks her head to look at him. 

“Don’t call me that!” she snaps.

“Amelia, calm down. No one is getting eaten.”

“I beg to differ,” the vampire holding her says, and she screams as he opens his mouth and breathes hotly on the side of her neck. 

“Dick!” Byron warns, and the vampire pressing his fangs to Amelia’s throat freezes. “Don’t even think about it or it will be you in this chair next.” The vampire growls but he obeys, pulling away from Amelia’s throat. 

“Wait,” Robbie says, and before he even speaks Rhett knows they’re in for it. “Is your name Dick? Are you honest to God a vampire named Dick?”

“Yes,” the vampire says. “Is that funny to you?” 

“Well, yes,” Robbie admits, and Rhett nudges him. Every person in this room is suicidal, crazy with it, but Robbie only starts to laugh once Rhett tries to shush him. “I can’t believe it,” he says. “This place is insane.” 

“You know what?” Byron asks. “Maybe Dick is right about the merit of hurrying this along. I can help with that.” He silences Robbie by sinking his knife into the hollow above Link’s collar bone. Link roars, trying to get away from the blade as his skin begins to smoke, but Byron pushes it deeper. 

This isn’t the way to go. Play time is over. 

“Stop!” Rhett cries, and just as tears spring up in Link’s summer sky eyes Byron stops. 

“Yes?” he asks. 

“How do you feel about giving me a whirl? Stop hurting him. Hurt me instead.”

“Or you could hurt nobody?!” Robbie suggests, but Byron is already smiling, sly. 

“You really don’t want to be the one sitting here,” Byron says to Rhett, his blade still buried deep in Link’s chest. Link chokes, chest heaving as he bites back a scream. And Rhett can’t do this. He can’t watch this anymore. They can kill Rhett, they can slice pieces from him like they threatened all they want. They just can’t hurt Link anymore. 

“I do,” Rhett says. “Take that out of him, will you? It looks kind of fun. I want a turn.” Byron’s grin widens. 

“You’re brave,” he says. “Stupid, but brave.” He presses on the hilt of his knife with two fingers, pushing it deeper, and Link’s eyes roll back as he whines. For Rhett’s sake he tries to keep it in; Rhett can tell when Link flicks his eyes up and looks right at him. He’s protecting Rhett still, even now. And Christ, it’s his turn.

“Spare me,” Rhett says. “Just take that thing out of him before I make you.”

“Oh!” Byron says. “Are you going to make me? How?” 

“You don’t want to know,” Rhett replies. Byron’s laughter bounces off the four walls and back to Rhett, loud and abrasive and deep. He doesn’t want to hear it ever again; he wants to hear it die in the vampire’s throat. He takes a step forward and the vampire holding him doesn’t hesitate to dig his fingernails into the crook of his neck, digging in so deep it sends him to his knees. Link roars for a reason besides pain as Rhett hits the floor. 

“Don’t hurt him!” Link begs, and just as fast as it came Link’s bravado disappears. Rhett wants to scream at him, to shout that they had this, they had them, and all they had to do was pretend to know better than the vampires. But Rhett can’t. The vampire draws blood from the side of his neck, his fingernails sharp, and as they sink into Rhett’s skin he tries his best not to scream. 

“Don’t fucking hurt him!” Robbie says, and it’s nice to have a chorus of people begging for Rhett’s safety. He just doesn’t want it. The vampire holding Robbie gives him a squeeze just the same as Rhett’s does and Robbie snarls in pain. He crashes to his knees at Rhett’s side, the vampire bearing down with their nails, and it’s time to do something. Rhett doesn’t want to be here anymore, the room stuffy and the smell of copper thick in the air. He wants to end this. So he tries his best.

“Now!” he cries, and Amelia and Heather move. They wheel on the vampire clutching the both of them and he doesn’t stand a chance; their flashlights blind him before he can move. Rhett doesn’t watch to see how their attack unfolds. He knows they have him. Robbie and Rhett rise to their feet, clawing up the legs of their captors, and as if they practiced it they move in sync, gripping the vampires by the wrists and ripping free of their hands. Robbie whimpers and Rhett squeezes his arm, hoping he gets the message Rhett sends him. _You’re all right_. Bleeding from his shoulder Robbie darts behind Rhett, putting space between himself and his captor, and as Dick hits the floor with a stake in his chest Rhett gets his knife between the ribs of his vampire.

He ducks just in time to avoid Heather throwing her stake to Robbie. It sails over Rhett’s head and skitters across the floor, Robbie diving for it as Rhett yanks his blade out from his vampire’s stomach. He drops and there’s only one to go, Robbie already raising the stake over his head. Rhett doesn’t watch. The third vampire hits the floor and Robbie clambers to his feet, using Rhett’s body for balance as he drags himself up.

“Are you okay?” Rhett asks, and Robbie nods. He turns to the girls and they nod, too, shaking as they cling to each other. There were twelve vampires down here. Rhett was told twelve. He tries to count in his head how many there are left, how many more they have to find, and one of them clears his throat. 

“Nicely done,” Byron says. “You took me by surprise. I won’t let it happen again.” Rhett takes a step forward but he’s ready for Rhett now. He presses the tip of his blade into Link’s chest and says, “If you get any closer to me I’m going to kill him. I wish you would stay back. I really did want to make this slow.” Rhett freezes. “Thank you.” 

“That’s almost all of them,” Link says, his chest hardly moving as he tries to keep away from the knife. “You’re _magic_ , Rhett. You can get all of them. Get out of here now. I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“Cute,” Byron says. As he speaks Rhett’s kids flank him, Robbie wiping sweat from his forehead and smearing it instead with blood. Amelia and Heather lean on each other, Amelia looking pale enough to faint, and Heather holds her up. They’re okay. They will be, anyway. 

“What’s cute?” Rhett asks. 

“Do you think I wouldn’t hunt him for the rest of his miserable life if he leaves here alive?” Byron asks Link, tapping with his knife at the hollow of Link’s throat. It leaves red marks as he goes, the silver making Link grimace and whine. He squirms, eyes firmly on Rhett, and Link wants Rhett to run. For the first time he wants Rhett to leave him. He wants Rhett to give up on him.

Not a chance.

“Did you not just see how easily we cut down your men?” Rhett counters. “Like they were made of blood and dust. Easy.” 

“I have more experienced men than these,” Byron says, looking down his nose at the bodies on the floor. “Although I did have higher hopes for them than this.” He sniffs, playing with Link’s hair, and all at once he takes a handful and yanks Link’s head back. Link stiffens, looking at Byron upside down, and Byron smiles down at him. “I wish things were different,” he says, stroking Link’s cheek with the side of his blade. “I would have loved to have someone like you in my clan. You’re a fighter. You have fire in you. I don’t see a lot of that in our kind. They tend to be either horrifically morose or horrifically egotistical. I don’t like either trait. How about you? What do you like in a vampire?” He trails the knife down the side of Link’s face and Rhett can’t help it. He takes a step closer. He can’t watch this happen, he can’t. But Byron reacts instantly, slashing a thin line across Link’s face. Blood spills down his cheek, slipping between his lips as he parts them. 

Rhett pauses. 

“I can do this as long as you can, Mr. McLaughlin,” Byron says. “Although I suppose Link probably can’t hold out much longer.” He lets go of Link’s hair and shoves his head down. “Isn’t that right?” Link’s hands twitch, his wrists bleeding from the silver chains binding them, and maybe Byron is right. 

“If you let us go right now we’ll let you live,” Rhett tells him anyway. Just as Rhett expects he doesn’t take Rhett seriously. He chuckles, poking at the exposed back of Link’s neck with his knife. Link flinches and ducks his head further down. 

Rhett can’t wait to wipe the smirk of Byron’s face. 

“You should take me up on my offer,” Rhett says, Link finally raising his head to watch Rhett as he wavers. “It’s the last offer you’re going to get.”

“This is a lot more fun than I ever expected,” Byron replies, and Link tenses up as Byron runs the blade along the line of his spine. “I had no idea what to expect from you. But it wasn’t this. Are you sure you have no interest in joining my clan? We are recently down a few brothers.” He leans back to get some room and he presses the blade to Link’s shoulder blade, beaming as he breaks the skin. Link doesn’t cry out anymore. He just looks at Rhett, pale and bleary eyed. 

“Please stop,” Amelia says, and she buries her face in Heather’s shoulder as Byron gives a dark little laugh and gives Link a prick right under his chin. There’s a lot more blood than Rhett has ever wanted to see. 

“Stop?” Byron asks. “Sweetheart, I’m just getting started.”

“Don’t call her that!” Robbie snaps, and Byron smiles ruefully as he takes up a handful of Link’s hair again. He pulls, exposing the long, smooth slope of Link’s throat, and he pauses. 

“You have such a lovely throat,” he says to Link. “It’s really too bad I have to cut it.” He presses his blade to Link’s skin and Link looks at Rhett. It isn’t Byron’s laughter. It isn’t the blood that makes Rhett lose control. It’s the grief in Link’s eyes. The apology. The goodbye. 

Rhett just fell in love with him. He’s not ready to give him up yet. 

He takes a step forward. 

Link breathes Rhett’s name like a sigh and Byron freezes just short of drawing blood from Link’s throat. 

“You’re not a very good listener, Mr. McLaughlin,” Byron says. “Didn’t I say if you get any closer I’ll cut his pretty little throat?”

“You did,” Rhett says. “But if you get any closer to him I’ll cut yours.” He’s not giving the vampire any more time; he’s not going to let him get another word in. Rhett’s done. The vampire can have him. He can cut Rhett open like a frog in a biology lab. He doesn’t care. But he’s not hurting Link anymore. 

“Rhett,” Link breathes, Byron’s knife pressed flush against the slope of his neck. “Rhett, honey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not!” Rhett barks. “It’s not! Stop _saying_ that!” He hates standing here watching this happen. He hates standing here and watching Link give up. How can he look at Rhett and tell Rhett he’s done? What is he thinking? Does he really think Rhett can do this alone? 

Rhett doesn’t want to go home without him. He has a toothbrush on Rhett’s sink and he’s crazy if he thinks Rhett’s going to let him leave it there. 

“Link, you can’t just…” Rhett begins. But that’s as far as he gets. The door behind him gets thrown open, three bodies shoving hard against it, and Amelia and Heather scramble out of the way. Rhett doesn’t look behind him to see who’s coming. He just moves. It takes three strides to close the space between Rhett and Link and as Byron cries out in surprise Rhett shoves him to the floor. Rhett doesn’t have time to watch where he goes. He has to get Link out of here. 

Voices shout behind Rhett and the kids are all right; he knows they’re all right. He doesn’t know who pounded through the door but he thanks God in his head for them, a chorus of _thank you, thank you, thank you_ running through his head. 

“Honey,” Link breathes, and for the first time in what feels like a thousand years Rhett gets his hands on him. “Honey, honey,” he says. “Watch out!” Rhett ducks under Byron’s arm, the vampire swinging for him, and Rhett tosses him back to the floor with a slash of his blade. It gets the vampire right under the eye and he drops to the floor. Rhett has seconds. 

“I love you,” he tells Link. With both hands he grapples with the silver chains binding Link to his chair, Link crying out as they rub against the blistered and agitated skin of his wrists. 

“Love you, too,” Link says. He looks up at Rhett, eyes bright, and Rhett doesn’t waste time. Rhett kisses him, Rhett’s hands flying to his face, and it’s only the blood slick on his palms that reminds him where he is. Even bruised and battered he tastes the same. “On your left.” Rhett takes a stab at Byron, the vampire trying with all his might to get to him, and he dodges the blade. And then he vanishes. Rhett has to tear his eyes from Link to watch a small body slam Byron against the back wall of the room. 

“Lizzie?!” Link cries, and when Rhett looks back at him his beautiful bloodied mouth hangs open.

“I brought the whole cavalry, baby,” Rhett says, and as Ian picks up Amelia and she squeals in his arms Rhett fights with Link’s chains. 

“Try cutting them,” Adam says, coming out of nowhere to save their asses, and he produces the biggest, most obscenely gaudy machete Rhett has ever seen. The hilt is bejeweled and the blade bloody and Rhett’s going to ask him where the hell he got it the first chance he gets. But for now he takes it and holds it above his head. 

“Christ, don’t cut my arms off!” Link cries, his eyes slamming shut.

“Don’t you trust me?” Rhett asks despite the tremor in his hands. 

“Oh, honey, I trust you with my life,” Link says. “Just do it.” With his eyes shut he can’t help Rhett and Lizzie warns him a second too late. She loses her grip on Byron and the vampire throws Rhett to the floor, the machete clattering away. Rhett’s head bounces off the concrete floor and he sees stars. It’s all he sees for a brief moment, the only thing he can hear a ringing in his ears. But it all comes back, Byron’s teeth flashing in his face, and Byron said there were more. There are more vampires who are here to help him and if Rhett’s help is here, Byron’s can’t be far away. 

For now they have him outnumbered. 

Lizzie punches at Byron, the vampire ignoring her, and as he takes hold of Rhett’s head in both hands Rhett barks at Lizzie, “Not me! Get Link!” She obeys Rhett, going for the chains on Link’s wrists just as Byron picks up Rhett’s head and slams it back to the concrete. 

“Mr. M.!” one of his girls cries, but the voice sounds far away. Dim. 

“Not me!” Link says, frantic, panicked. “No, no, Liz, stop! Help him!” Lizzie is good. She ignores him. He makes a lot of noise, shouting at her, and Byron pounds Rhett’s head against the floor. Lizzie yells at Link, telling him she can’t free him if he doesn’t stop moving. Robbie’s voice comes from across the room, Robbie ushering the kids out into the hall, and Rhett wants to thank him. At least the kids will get out of this. That’s good. It’s all he can ask for now.

“I’m not leaving Mr. M.!” Heather shouts, pushing away from Robbie, but Robbie catches her and makes her go.

“He wants you to get out of here, Heather!” he says. Rhett wishes he could thank him. 

“No!” Heather cries. “Robbie, please don’t, we can’t just leave him!” Whatever she says Rhett doesn’t hear the end of it; Robbie wrestles her out of the room and the door closes behind him and the rest of the kids. Good. They don’t need to be here for this. They don’t need to be here at all. If they run into the rest of Byron’s vampires on their way out the vampires will be no match for them. 

Good. 

He’s starting to feel a little lost, Byron’s twisted face all he can see. He can hear Link, he thinks, shouting nonsense at Lizzie as she struggles to free him. Lizzie pauses, her nimble fingers almost done freeing one of Link’s wrists, and she slams the heel of one shoe into the side of Byron’s head. He rolls off Rhett, teeth bared, and Lizzie is ready. She kicks him again, this time in the chest as he comes for her, and she grimaces as he rakes his fingernails along her leg to try to keep balanced. 

“Lizzie!” Link shouts, and from where Rhett lies he can see Link. Just barely Rhett can see him. He looks at Rhett, bloody face pale, and he says, “Lizzie, oh, Liz, is he…? Is he?”

“He’s fine!” Lizzie tells him. Rhett? Why would Rhett be anything but fine? Byron lands on top of him again, so angry he’s spitting with it, but he’s all right. It’s not so bad. His kids are okay and once Link is free he will manage Byron. Rhett knows he will. 

Link finally rips one arm free of the chair and despite the effect it has on his skin he immediately tears into the other chain, whimpering in pain as he goes. Rhett wishes he wasn’t hurting.

Byron shakes Rhett like a rag doll on the floor and his brain scatters. He tries to watch Link, to listen to him, but he can’t hear Link anymore. He can just see Link, the way he pleads with Lizzie, and he’s not thinking straight. Byron could kill her, could crush her if he wanted to, and Link is ordering her to attack. What is he thinking? Rhett’s trying to think for both of them here. 

It’s not going so well.

Link arches up out of his chair, pulling as far as he can, and he swings his fist. His free arm still has one shackle attached to it, the silver gleaming, and Link can’t reach Byron from where he is. Okay. All right. Maybe Rhett can help. He arches his back, trying to find his hands, and he pushes Byron up as far as he can. Lizzie does the rest. She kicks Byron again, sending him reeling, and he falls off Rhett and towards Link. The moment he’s within reach Link has him, winding the silver chain around his fist and punching Byron right between the eyes.

Byron howls at the same time Lizzie sets Link free. Rhett rolls out of the way just in time for Link to hit Byron again, sending him crashing to the floor. And Link is done fighting. He bellows for Lizzie to leave, to find the kids and get them out, and he drops to his knees beside Rhett. 

“Honey,” he says, hands gentle on Rhett’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Mmm…” Rhett says, and it’s all he can manage. He feels fuzzy and slow and he can’t see too well, Link a blur through tears in his eyes. But it’s okay. He’s okay. Link is hurt worse than Rhett is, his face and his chest and his throat bloodied up, but they’re okay. They’re okay. Link takes Rhett’s hand and his is soft, so much softer than it felt last time Rhett held it, and he helps Rhett to his feet. Rhett can’t breathe too well and he thinks he might pass out but Link has his hands on the side of Rhett’s face. He kisses Rhett, soft and sweet, and Link presses his forehead to Rhett’s.

“I can’t believe you came, you indescribable idiot,” he says, and he beams. 

“I told everyone you were my fiancé,” is how Rhett chooses to reply. Link’s hands are all over Rhett, bloody and bruised but soft and sweet, and Rhett doesn’t know where to touch him first. 

Byron stirs on the floor and Rhett manages to pull away from Link before Link pulls away from him. 

“You first,” Rhett says, and Link takes his hand, lacing up their fingers. He kisses Rhett. And they run. Rhett can hear the kids shouting, Lizzie guiding them towards the end of the line, but they’re too far away to see. Good. It’s all good. Rhett’s been underground far too long and the way back is harder, the floor slanting upwards. Link drips blood on the floor as he goes and Rhett slips in it, his sneakers drenched in scarlet, and he’s going to make Link buy him new ones the second they get out of here. He’s going to make him buy _two_ pairs. Hell, one for every day of the week. 

Robbie screams up ahead and Link freezes so fast Rhett almost bowls him over as he stops.

“Shit,” Rhett says, and Link nods.

“Yep.” That’s all he has to say. They pick up speed, bumping into corners and slipping in hot, scarlet blood, and the next scream they hear comes from Heather. Rhett can’t see, he can’t think, and by the time he catches sight of a circle of blurry bodies he’s so exhausted he can’t even cry out. “Oh, no,” Link breathes. “Oh, no oh, no.” 

“What?” Rhett asks, but Link ignores him. The kids and Lizzie circle Robbie and a body on the floor, a dead vampire by his side.

“He bit me!” Robbie howls, one hand on his neck and the other over his mouth. “He fucking bit me!” 

“He snuck up on us,” Lizzie says to Link, apologetic, and Link grows stern.

“Did you get any of his blood in your mouth when you killed him?” Link asks, and Robbie throws one arm up to get help standing. Lizzie drags him to his feet and Robbie takes his hand off his neck, looking at the pinpricks of blood on his fingertips. He wavers where he stands.

“No,” Robbie says. “He just…he just surprised me.” He blinks, slow, and Rhett knows the feeling. The venom is getting to him, his limbs going limp, and he looks at Link like he knows he should worry but can’t quite muster up the strength. 

“You’ll be all right,” Link says. “Besides the bite, are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Link snatches Rhett’s hand back up and Rhett needs Link to guide him; he can’t see a thing. He can see the shapes of his kids, the shape of Link’s jaw, but not much else but shadows. It’s going to be a long night without sight. But he has Link. He has him; he didn’t let Link down, and they race the way they came. They walked what felt like miles on the way down and they have a long way to go. Rhett has no idea how long but the kids are flagging, Link hyperventilating at his side, and if they don’t get out of here soon someone is going to collapse. 

Rhett hits the wall trying to stay upright and that someone just might be him. 

“Keep going, baby,” Link says to him, and he loves it when Link calls him that. He loves it when Link says his name, when he holds his hand, and the world might be fuzzy around him but Link isn’t. His hand is slick and cold but it’s there. And he’s not going anywhere. 

“Link,” Rhett says, and Link looks at him. “Link, Link.”

“Yes?” 

“When I was in college,” Rhett pants, chest heaving painfully with every breath he takes, “I fell in love with my art professor.” 

“Okay,” Link says. “Go on.” 

“And he said he loved me, too. He promised we could be together, Link, and he told me all these things. He told me I was the most special person in the world, Link. He wrote poetry about me, about the goddamn color of my eyes. And he read it in front of the class. I was horribly, terribly in love with him. And then he got married. To his fiancée, his girlfriend of five years, and the world exploded around me. I almost dropped out of school; I almost jumped out a _window_.”

“Oh, Rhett,” Link says, and the kids disappear around a corner, Lizzie steering Robbie with one hand. Rhett and Link turn the corner with them and they have to be close; they have to be. 

“That’s who did it,” Rhett says. “He was the one who broke me, who made me how I am. I just thought it…it was time I told you.” Link squeezes his hand and nothing else matters but the icy grip he has on Rhett’s fingers. “And every person I picked after that was another version, of him, Link, a string of lousy people who never, ever put me first. I just…you should know. There were so many, Link, so many people who didn’t love me the way they should have. Link…I’m sorry I’m like this. I don’t mean to be. I just decided I was never, ever going to hurt like that again. So I was gonna be the one to hurt people. I’m sorry, Link. God, I’m sorry. It was stupid but you have to understand. Please tell me you understand.” 

“Thank you,” Link says instead, and Rhett cuts him off.

“After him I was alone for five years, Link. Five goddamn years. And when I tried again, when I fell in love again, it was…shit.” Rhett’s chest hurts from running and it’s hard to breathe, keeping his voice steady. But he tries. “It was a man who never said he loved me. And God, I can’t believe I did the same to you. He left me, Link, in the middle of the night. I was _thirty_ by the time I recovered.” 

“Oh, honeybee…” Again Rhett cuts him off. 

“I’m desperately in love with you,” Rhett tells him. “And for once, you’re not going anywhere. And you really thought I was going to let you slip away? You’re the best thing I’ve had in forever, Link.”

“Baby, honey, I love you, too,” Link babbles as they run.

“I should have told you we had so much in common,” Rhett replies, lamenting the pain he caused Link over and over again. “The same pasts that screwed us both up the same.” It’s no excuse for the way he treated Link but God, Link is good. Link understands. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” Link assures him. “Don’t worry, love, it’s okay.” 

“And my…and my mother, Link, she told me I was so much like my father. Me! Like him! The man who threw me out of his house and called me horrible names for all the neighbors to hear!” Rhett chokes and Link looks back at him, fury in his face, and it’s not directed at Rhett. Not at all. “She told me I was like him and I was scared to inflict that on anybody, Link, on a person I was supposed to love,” Rhett finishes. “Do you get it now?” 

They dash up the spiral staircase, the steps wet with blood from Rhett’s kids and from Lizzie, and twice they almost fall backwards to the bottom. Link catches Rhett both times. They reach the top and there’s so much space between them and freedom, more space than Rhett wants to think about. 

“You’re a miracle, Rhett,” Link says at the top of the stairs, and it’s not the time. It’s not the time nor the place but Rhett makes Link stop. He makes him stop and Rhett kisses his lips, soft as he can. Link looks dazedly at Rhett for a moment, blinking and not breathing, but one nudge from Rhett gets him going again. They catch up to the kids and they’re breathing hard, choking and heaving, and Rhett is sorry. But they’re going to get out of here. They’re so close, close enough to dream about the way the night air is going to feel in Rhett’s lungs. 

Robbie stumbles and Amelia helps him up, Ian holding her hand. The kids limp and bleed and Rhett’s sorry they’re here, he is more sorry than he has ever been, but it’s okay. They’re almost there. They have to be. He doesn’t know how he’s upright, he has no idea how he’s running, and he doesn’t know how Link is, either. Link is bleeding all over the floor, the wound on his shoulder the worst, and Rhett wishes he could stop him. He wishes he could make Link whole. 

They reach a door and the kids burst through it, Lizzie holding it open for them. Rhett’s the last to go through, the last in line, and just as Link follows the kids Rhett gets pulled back. 

“I’ve really had enough of you,” Byron growls in Rhett’s ear, and Link calls for everyone to stop. To wait for Rhett. And Byron shoves his knife into the center of Rhett’s back. 

Heather screams and Robbie is hurt, bleeding and weak, but he catches Rhett. Link cuts off the laughter bubbling, hysterical, in Byron’s chest, and Robbie lowers Rhett to the floor. It hurts; it hurts a lot. He doesn’t know where Link is but Rhett wishes he could see him. He wishes he could breathe. He can see Robbie but his face is blurry, far away. Robbie shouts, his hands on the sides of Rhett’s face, and he wishes he could just _breathe_ so he could tell Robbie it’s okay. 

“Link, forget the fucking vampire!” Robbie shouts. “Mr. M. is dying over here!” 

Rhett tries to ask him, “Am I?” but it comes out strangled, thick. There’s blood in his throat and he chokes, gurgling when he tries to speak. 

“Robbie, turn him over so he can breathe, for fuck’s sake!” That’s his Heather, straight to the point, and Robbie eases Rhett’s face to the side. He spits out blood and drags in a breath and it hurts a lot more than it should. 

“Link, get the hell over here!” Robbie cries. Rhett’s scaring him. He wishes he wasn’t. It’s okay, it really is. He wasn’t planning on dying, he really wasn’t, but it’s okay. It really is. 

There’s blood all down Robbie’s front and Rhett doesn’t think it’s his. Rhett thinks it’s his own. He’s bleeding on the stone floor, a hole in the center of his back, and he doesn’t know where Link is. He needs to see Link. He needs Link to see him. Link won’t come back from missing this, from missing what Robbie seems to think are Rhett’s last moments alive. He doesn’t feel like Robbie is right but he must be. Rhett can’t see much but he can see Robbie is crying. 

“Link, for the love of God, get your stupid, stubborn, lousy ass over here _right now_!” Amelia screams, and Link stops whatever it is he’s doing. For a moment the hallway goes still, silent, and then Rhett’s being jostled as Link takes Robbie’s place at his side. 

“Rhett,” he says. “Rhett, hey, how are you?” Rhett has been better but he can’t find his mouth to tell Link so. Link looks beautiful, Rhett’s beautiful boy, a sight for sore eyes, and his hand tangles up messily with Rhett’s. Blood squelches between their cupped palms and there’s an awful lot of crying, Rhett’s kids staying close, and they shouldn’t be crying. They’ll be all right. 

Link is smiling down at Rhett until it starts to hurt too much to breathe. 

“Rhett!” he cries, and Rhett’s eyes close. It’s okay. It really is. At least Rhett got to see Link one last time. “Rhett, honey, no!” 

Rhett doesn’t want to leave Link like this just when he thought he had something good but he’s not sure he can lie here without breathing for much longer. His chest feels tight, his back arching up off the floor, and his hand twitches in Link’s. Rhett can feel him squeezing his fingers, pleading with him, and hot tears splash on his cheeks. Link is crying. He’s crying over Rhett, sobs echoing like gunshots down the hall. 

“Rhett! Rhett, please,” Link begs. “Rhett, don’t. I love you. I love you, honey.” Link presses his forehead to Rhett’s and one tear splashes on Rhett’s mouth, slipping down his lower lip. Gingerly, tenderly, Link wipes it away. 

And Link stops crying after that. He breathes hard, choking on tears, and he squares his shoulders. He barks an order to Robbie that passes Rhett by. But Robbie passes Link a lighter, the one Rhett borrowed hours ago, and with a flick of Link’s thumb the flame ignites. For a moment the world hangs in utter silence, balanced on the tip of the flame. And then Link holds it to the blood splattered on the floor. It ignites, a trail of fire lighting up the hallway from where they came, Link’s face lit up in orange and yellow under the fire’s glow. Link tosses the lighter down the hall and Rhett listens to it skitter, following the path of the flame as it bounces away. “Go,” Link says to the kids and to Lizzie, and just like that he scoops Rhett up into his arms. Rhett rests against Link’s bloodied chest and as far as places to die go right here isn’t so bad. 

“Go!” Link says again, and Rhett’s kids go. Lizzie goes. They go on, chased by fire, Link cradling Rhett to his chest, and they have to be almost out. They have to be. It’s hot down here all of a sudden, fire licking at their heels as blood patters behind them. That’s okay. That’s fine. Rhett dozes for a minute, maybe two, maybe ten, but when he comes back he can see daylight behind his eyelids. It’s just barely morning, a cold one, and the outside air brushes Rhett’s face. It’s the best thing he’s felt in a long time. 

“Stop!” Link calls, and the world obeys. The world bows down to Link, the air itself still around them, and Link sinks with Rhett to the sidewalk. He begs Lizzie to call for help, his hand on Rhett’s cheek, and she does. The city is alive all around them and Rhett opens his eyes only to be blinded by the morning sun. At least he gets to see the sky. 

“Link,” Rhett says, and Link looks at him. Tears leave clean tracks on Link’s bloodied cheeks and he looks at Rhett, leaning in to kiss Rhett’s lips. Rhett hardly feels it.

“Don’t leave me just yet, honeybee,” he says. “I haven’t even gotten used to having you.” The kids sprawl on the sidewalk, Amelia pushing Link to get closer to Rhett, and as sirens blare in the distance she shoves him aside. 

“You’re the bravest man in the universe, Mr. McLaughlin,” she says, and she has blood on her mouth. She leaves a wet red spot on Rhett’s cheek when she kisses it, Link dabbing at his face to wipe it away. Robbie collapses on the sidewalk at Rhett’s side and Lizzie catches him before he can hit his head, his eyes rolling up. Rhett wants to tell Link to take care of Robbie. To leave Rhett. But he doesn’t really want that and Link would never listen. 

Link coos to him and he stops listening to what Link says after the fifteenth, “I love you.” Rhett loves him too and he knows it; at this point Link has to know it. He has said everything, finally, freed from the stupid, terrible things that held him back. It’s good he finally got it all out; Rhett can’t make his throat work anymore. Link turns his cheek so he can spit blood across the sidewalk, splattering the pavement. 

So Rhett mouths it to him instead. “Love you, love you,” he mouths, and Link nods. He gets it. The world bows down to them, the two of them, the group of them, and the sirens get closer the longer Rhett lies sprawled in Link’s arms. 

It’s all right. It’s all good. The world gets dim and then dark and Link chokes around the sound of Rhett’s name. But he’s still here and Link’s here with him and Rhett feels Link’s hand slip into his in the dark. He squeezes. And Rhett squeezes back. It’s all right. 

It’s all good.


	13. XIII

Rhett loses a lot of time between being awake and being asleep. He dozes, dizzy, and every time he opens his eyes Link is there. He doesn’t leave. Not that Rhett thought he would. But it’s nice, every time, to feel Link next to him.

Robbie is fine, Link assures Rhett, already good as new. The girls are patched up, Amelia with stitches under one eye and Heather on her forehead, and the boys are doing fine. Lizzie is okay, shaken up but just fine, and Rhett is so relieved he could burst into tears. But there’s a bag of blood above his bed and he doesn’t think he has the fluids to spare. 

When he closes his eyes to rest Link murmurs to him without expecting him to listen. Rhett doesn’t think he knows Rhett’s awake and can hear him. That’s all right. He tells Rhett things he likes to hear.

“Amelia is telling everyone who will listen that you saved her life,” Link says, and his fingers are slow and careful as they roam up and down Rhett’s arm. “No one would believe her, of course, about the whole vampire thing. So she edited it. The official story is pretty convoluted, if I do say so myself, but the kids came up with it and I had to go along with it for the sake of their parents. Apparently the kids went out to celebrate being cast in the newest school play and were mugged by a group of madmen. Luckily, it just so happened you and I were on a date just at the same time and we happened upon the scene. And then you tried to take them all on yourself! So you’re a hero. Imagine that! She’s so proud of you, honey, and she can’t stop saying it. And I’m proud of you, too.” He pauses and Rhett ought to tell him he’s awake, he’s listening, and he loves him. But he doesn’t. 

“I knew you were going to come,” Link says. “The things that vampire said he was going to do to you once you made it to me…I was hoping you wouldn’t come. But I know you, at least I think I do, and Amelia is right. You’re the bravest man in the world. You’re amazing. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I can’t believe I almost lost you.” He stops talking and Rhett chances a peek at him; his head is bowed so he can’t see Rhett. And the welts on his wrists are gone, faded away, and he heals a lot faster than the kids will. Rhett’s worried about them, scared out of his mind, but whatever it is he gets through the tube in the back of his hand keeps him from worrying too much.

It won’t do any good now, anyhow. It’s over and they’re all right. Rhett can breathe easy for the first time in months. For the first time since Stevie died he can lie still and be satisfied. 

Link sits perfectly still for a long time, his thumb rubbing a slow circle on the back of Rhett’s hand, and he sniffles. 

“We didn’t get all of them, baby,” he says, and if Rhett’s going to tell Link he hears him loud and clear now would be the time. But he’s not. “We didn’t get them all and sooner or later they’re going to come for us. And I don’t know what to do.” He pauses to sniffle, voice quaking. “If I wasn’t so selfish and so desperately in love I might do the right thing and leave you. It’s probably what I should do to keep you safe. They want me a lot more than they want you. They would choose me if we were apart. But God, Rhett. The thought of losing you, of giving you up, of leaving you behind? I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want that, not one little bit.” Again he pauses, head bowed, and Rhett watches a tear slide down the slope of his nose and land hot on Rhett’s arm. Link wipes it away with one finger and says, “If I wasn’t such a terrible person I might leave without even saying goodbye. Just to make it easier for me.” 

“You’re a freaking idiot,” Rhett tells him, and Link is on his feet before Rhett can even laugh at the way he startles. 

“Honey,” he breathes, and Rhett tells Link he isn’t going anywhere.

“Not without me, anyway,” Rhett adds, and Link is on him. He kisses Rhett’s face, pressing frantic kisses to his cheeks, his hands curling into the hair behind Rhett’s ears. Link finds his mouth and Rhett kisses him back, matching him, pulling him in closer. He breaks the kiss to tell Rhett he loves him and Rhett says, “I know, I know,” and pulls Link to him to kiss him again. 

“I thought I lost you,” he breathes, his mouth soft enough to melt into, and Rhett nods.

“I know, I know. I thought I lost you, too.”

“You didn’t, honey,” Link says. “You didn’t and you’re not going to.” He sinks to the edge of Rhett’s bed and his hands are all over Rhett, in his hair, on his shoulders, on his chest. He cards Rhett’s hair back and he kisses Rhett like he hasn’t kissed him in years, like it’s been centuries. 

“You weren’t really going to run away from me,” Rhett says, breathless, “after all you did teaching me not to run?” 

“Not going anywhere,” Link says. “If you’ll have me.”

“Like there’s a goddamn chance in hell I would let you leave me now.” Link smiles against Rhett’s lips, his hands in Rhett’s hair. 

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.” He pulls back for a brief moment, grinning devilishly. “So,” Link says, and if his gleaming eyes mean anything Rhett’s really in for it. 

“What?”

“Fiancé, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” Rhett says. “I thought I was never gonna see you again. Strange things come out of me in desperate times. Besides.” He pauses, one hand cupped on the back of Link’s neck. Holding him still. “You _did_ ask me to marry you.”

“Did I?” Link asks. “I do tend to say the strangest things in desperate times.” 

“You’re the worst,” Rhett tells him, but he holds Link tight and he thinks he hears the truth. Link kisses the side of Rhett’s head and tells him,

“I love you, too.” 

 

Life takes a while to get back to normal. Rhett is released from the hospital full of painkillers that make him sleepy and slow, and Link carries him up to his own bed in his own apartment. He doesn’t want to be here but he’s too tired to tell Link. Instead he says a garbled, slurred version of, “Moving in with you,” that makes Link smile. 

“Sure, honey,” he says. “When you’re better.” He kisses Rhett’s lips and he’s too slow to kiss Link back. Rhett doesn’t think he minds. Link sits in bed with him, rubbing idly at his thighs with one hand, and Rhett closes his eyes as Link’s hand wanders. 

“Love you,” Rhett reminds him. “Link, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says. “Go to sleep, babe. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Rhett does. And he is. 

 

Rhett’s going to be out of commission for a few weeks, barred from going back to work until the day after Valentine’s Day, and his kids come to visit him. They come with balloons and cupcakes and board games, the cuts and bruises on their faces faded in the week since he’s seen them. 

“I made the cupcakes,” Amelia says as Link peels the wrapper from one for Rhett. “They’re blue velvet. They’re really, really good.”

“They are,” Ian says, and the kids fight over places to sit. Amelia gets the bed, sitting at Rhett’s side, and Ian sits at hers. The rest sprawl on the floor. “I had seven when she was making them last night.” 

“Seven?!” she gasps. Link hands Rhett a blue cupcake with a dainty swirl of white frosting and Amelia throws her hands up. “That’s why I’m so short! You’re so gross, Ian! Seven?!” He laughs as Rhett takes a bite, licking cream cheese frosting off his lip, and Amelia shoves Ian off the bed. 

“Take it as a compliment, babe!” Ian says. Amelia rolls her eyes but she helps Ian climb back up onto Rhett’s bed. 

“They’re amazing, Amy,” he tells her. “Thank you.” He missed them, even more than he thought he would, and he watches them as they talk. They don’t seem worse for wear; they seem just the same as always, happy-go-lucky and talkative and bright. Rhett feels a little fuzzy from pain medication but he has something he needs to say to them. 

“I could have killed you when you guys showed up in San Diego,” he says around a mouthful of cupcake. He swallows at the same time as the kids start shifting where they sit. “But I wouldn’t have made it out of there without you. So thank you. I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know what I did to deserve you guys but it must have been something real good.” He shoves the rest of his cupcake into his mouth so he doesn’t have to say anything else and Amelia says all there is left to say. She leans her head on his shoulder and she tells him something that makes his heart soar.

“We love you, Mr. M.,” she says. “We couldn’t have let you go alone. There was no way.” 

“I’m grounded for the rest of my life for disappearing,” Robbie says, and Rhett forgets too easily how young they are. He fixes Robbie with a would-be-sharp look and Robbie shrugs. “My mom thought I was dead or something. I apologized maybe fifteen thousand times and maybe she’ll recover after fifteen thousand more.” He shrugs again like what he did for Rhett was no big deal, something small. All at once Rhett sort of wants to cry. 

“Oh, Mr. M., don’t,” Heather says, because she knows Rhett better than she probably should. She sees he’s going to cry a moment before he sniffles. 

“Mr. M.!” Robbie cries out, and a tear drop lands on Rhett’s blankets. “Why are you crying?” He gets up off the floor and sits on the bed, dropping a hand to Rhett’s knee, and he doesn’t deserve this. They are too good to him, too loving and caring and kind, and he doesn’t know how to accept so much love at once. He’s always been awful at accepting affection and it’s no easier now, Robbie leaning in closer to pull him into a one armed hug. “Hey man, no need to cry. We were happy to be there for you. Don’t feel bad. Is that why you’re crying? We’re fine, Mr. M. We’re all fine.” 

Rhett’s kids join Robbie on the bed and they get their limbs tangled up trying to get to him, to hug him, and Link rises to give them room. 

“Nothing bad happened, Mr. M.!” Adam says. “What is there to cry about?” Rhett tries to stop; crying agitates the sutures in his back and it starts to hurt. He tries to stop to ease the panic his kids feel, but it’s harder than he wants it to be. 

“I just don’t know what I would have done,” he manages, voice trembling, “if something happened to any of you because of me. How could you be so willing to go diving into something so dangerous just for…just for _me_?” 

“Is he always like this?” Heather asks Link, but she knows. Link tells her he is and she nods because she already knows. “Mr. M., you’re a lot cooler than you think you are. We like you, believe it or not. We need you, as unfathomable as that might be.” Rhett nods because he can’t think of anything else to say. 

“Okay,” he manages in the end, and Link hands him a tissue. The kids laugh as he blows his nose. He feels he could sleep for a year or more but he doesn’t want to. He wants to be here and he wants to feel loved. It’s heavy and it’s warm and the kids back away, smiling wide. 

“We should probably go,” Amelia says, laughing as Rhett tries to force his drooping eyelids open. “We’ll see you soon at school, Mr. M.”

“I hope you feel better soon,” Robbie says, and just like that the kids say goodbye and leave Link and Rhett alone. The quiet is strange after the barrage of chattering. Balloons bob up and down in the corner of the room where Amelia tied them to Rhett’s dresser and cupcake wrappers dot the floor. He sits still in his bed and tries not to fall asleep before Link can get to him. Link slides into the bed and he scoops Rhett into his arms, drawing him in to his chest. Rhett whimpers as he settles down, his back aching, and Link whispers an apology in his ear.

For a long time they don’t move at all as Link presses slow, gentle kisses to Rhett’s temple. Rhett dozes, falling in and out of sleep, and every time he jerks awake Link is there to chuckle in his ear.

“Go to sleep, honeybee,” he tells Rhett.

“I don’t want to,” he replies. 

“Why not?” 

“Because what if you leave me?” he asks. “What if you decide we’re better off apart?” 

“Do you really think there’s the slightest chance of that?” Link asks, and Rhett leans into his touch as Link fusses with his hair. 

“No,” Rhett admits. Link loves Rhett too much. He loves him to pieces. It’s not like he makes it hard to tell; he’s worn it on his sleeve for months now. It’s just not so easy to get used to. 

“Stop worrying, then,” Link says. “As long as you want me, I’m here for you.” He’s gentle with Rhett, careful as he can be, and he presses his lips to Rhett’s cheek. “I love you, my little baby bee.”

“All right,” Rhett says, too tired to scold him too roughly for his ridiculous pet names. “That’s a little too much.”

“My baby bumblebee,” he coos anyway, nuzzling into the crook of Rhett’s neck. “My deepest love, my darling dear.”

“Stop,” Rhett says, but he loves the way Link kisses every bit of him he can reach as he comes up with wilder and wilder things to call Rhett. 

“My beautiful dew drop,” he smiles, and Rhett shakes with laughter he tries to keep from spilling out of him. “My ethereal gummy bear, the light of my life.”

“You sappy idiot,” Rhett tells him, and he nods.

“Only for you,” Link says. 

“Link,” Rhett says, only because he’s about to fall asleep and there a few more things he ought to tell him. 

“Yes?”

“What I told you in the city. About how I ended up like this. I’ve never told anyone that. Not even…Link, I didn’t even tell Stevie.”

“Wow,” Link breathes, and Rhett’s glad he understands. He shifts a bit so Rhett’s face is closer to his, his chin on Rhett’s forehead. He presses a kiss into Rhett’s hair and he waits for more. 

“Did you think, even for a second, that I was going to leave you down there?” 

“No,” Link replies. “No, honey.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Were you scared?”

He pauses. He moves, gentle, and he glides one hand up the side of Rhett’s jaw. He pinches at Rhett’s earlobe and gives his hair a tug, fingers nimble and cold. Finally he says, “Yes.”

“What were you scared of?” Rhett’s eyes are closing and he hopes Link doesn’t notice; he wants to learn everything he can about Link while he lies here completely open. 

“What they were going to do to you,” Link says. Link strokes Rhett’s hair and Rhett cuddles up into his chest, sinking into him. He could get used to it. If he tried. “I think you taught me a thing or two about running,” he says next, hand ceaseless in Rhett’s hair. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while you sleep, sweetheart, and I can’t let anything like that happen to you ever again. You know, part of me tells me to go. To leave. But I think, maybe, I’ve taught you something about staying. And I might be something for you, now, a reason for you to stay. You were…shit.” Link stops, voice breaking, and Rhett doesn’t know why. He’s too sleepy to ask.

“The first night I met you, I never thought this would happen. I wasn’t one to stay, either. But you were so stunning, standing there in that shitty bar, and you changed my mind. From the first day, Rhett, you made me better. Is it…is it wrong of me to say I think I’ve done the same for you?”

Rhett’s almost asleep, losing his hold on his limbs, but he shakes his head.

“No, Link,” he says. “No, you’re right. You have.” Rhett tugs on Link’s shirt, bunching up the fabric in his fingers, and he lets it go. “You have, my wonderwall. My cherry pie. My winding wheel. My…”

“Go to sleep, babe,” Link says. “You’re going all soft on me.” He kisses Rhett’s cheek and says, “Don’t tell me anything you’ll regret in the morning.” 

“I love you more than I have ever loved anything,” Rhett says, and Link laughs. He jostles Rhett and Rhett cringes, just short of crying out, and Link showers Rhett’s face in kisses to distract him. 

“Is this Rhett talking or the painkillers?” he asks. 

“It’s me,” Rhett says. He’s not going to be awake much longer and there’s one more thing. “Listen, about that whole marriage thing…”

“Don’t panic,” Link says. 

“I’m not. I was thinking, since you’re in the mood to buy me pretty things…” Rhett pauses to yawn, his jaw creaking, and Link waits patiently as he always does. “Maybe you could propose the right way. What do you say?”

Link pauses for a long moment, his heart thrumming beneath Rhett’s palm. 

“Do you really want that?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“If I asked you…if I got down on one knee and I bought you a ring. You would say yes?”

“Yes,” Rhett replies.

“You wouldn’t change your mind. Wouldn’t run. Wouldn’t turn me down.”

“No.”

Again Link pauses. “Okay.” He’s gone in the next moment, leaving Rhett alone in bed with a pillow where Link’s chest used to be. It’s nowhere near as nice to lie on as Link is.

“What are you doing?” Rhett asks. 

“I’m going out to buy you an engagement ring,” Link replies. “Do you have anything in mind? Do you want a diamond? What kind of metal, honey? Are you more into gold or platinum? I hope you don’t have your heart set on silver because, well, you know…”

“Wait.” Rhett can barely keep his eyes open and Link looks like an angel, the late afternoon light filtering in through Rhett’s bedroom window. The sunlight gives him a halo and Rhett wants to remember this, the way he looks right this second. 

“What?” he asks.

“I’m memorizing the moment,” Rhett says. “So when I’m old I can conjure it up and remember how it felt to fall in love with someone who gave me all of him.” It hurts to move, his back twinging, but he raises his arms and shuts one eye, miming as he pretends to take a picture of Link where he stands. Link looks at Rhett for a long time after he puts his fake camera away and nestles back into his bed. 

“What?” it’s Rhett’s turn to ask. 

“I love you,” Link says. 

“Why, I love you, too,” Rhett replies. Link closes the distance between them in the blink of an eye and he cradles Rhett’s face in his icy hands, tilting Rhett’s chin up. 

“You’re going to be here when I get back, right?” Link asks. 

“Yes,” Rhett replies. 

“And you’re still going to want me when I come back to you.”

“Yes.”

“Rhett, how long are you going to want me?”

Link is still scared of Rhett. He still thinks there’s a part of Rhett that just might break him. Rhett doesn’t know how to fix it, to tell him there is nothing he has to worry about, but he can try. 

“How long do vampires live?” Rhett asks. Link’s eyebrows knit together as he strokes at Rhett’s face with his thumbs, eyes bright. 

“As long as they choose,” he replies. “Forever, if that’s what they want.”

“Then I’m going to want you forever. Yeah?” Link searches Rhett’s face, mouth turned down, but when he sees what he’s looking for it slips up into a smile. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Sounds good to me.” He kisses Rhett, mouth eager, and Rhett thinks if he holds Link here too much longer he might cry. He has to let Link go for now. 

“Go get me something nice,” Rhett says, and Link beams as Rhett leans in to kiss him again. “What do you think of rose gold?”

“I think it’s perfect,” Link says. “Just like…”

“Just like _you_ ,” Rhett says, and Link’s smile as Rhett beats him to it is enough to make him dizzy. 

 

Link keeps Rhett waiting. Link is the patient one, patient enough for the both of them, and he comes home from the jewelry store and pretends he was never there. He kisses Rhett to shush him when he asks for his proposal and he tells Rhett he’ll do it when he’s ready. To keep him busy Link brings home boxes, dozens of cardboard boxes ready to go, and while Rhett lounges in bed eating ice cream he starts to pack up Rhett’s things. He carries books and movies, pot and pans, odds and ends into his room and organizes them. There are garbage bags piled up by the front door in no time, Rhett’s life consolidated to a few boxes. 

He doesn’t mind. He’s been ready to start all over again for a while now. He just needed Link to prove it to him.

“You don’t really need two sets of salt and pepper shakers, do you?” Link asks, holding up two identical pairs. 

“I do,” Rhett says. “Stevie bought me those. Twice. When I first moved here I didn’t have any and she thought I should have two. She said everyone has at least two.”

“I’m sorry,” Link says, and he sets about rolling the shakers up into newspapers to pack them away. 

“No, it’s okay,” Rhett tells him. “I just want to keep some pieces of her around a little longer.” Link keeps his head bowed for a long minute as he stows away the shakers, packing them in with the plates and bowls. 

“I’m sorry she’s not here,” Link says to his hands. “She should be here. And I don’t know if it’s really…if it’s really my fault she’s not. But I get so happy sometimes, like I can’t believe I’m so lucky, and then I remember. There’s someone who made you happy, someone who was so kind and loving and special, and she’s not here anymore.”

Rhett misses her more than he ever thought he could but he quiets Link. 

“It’s not your fault,” Rhett tells him. 

“God, Rhett,” he replies, voice low. “She would be so proud of you. So happy for you.”

“I know,” Rhett tells him. “Hey, I know. I wish she was here.” If she could see him like this, open wide and falling so deeply, she would do something silly like cry with joy. She would tell him she loves him and he would say it back and she would hug him, squeezing the life out of him. She would ask him what took him so long and she would ask to be the one to walk him down the goddamn aisle. 

Link can tell Rhett is going to need him before Rhett does. His lip trembles and Rhett just barely catches himself before he starts to cry, Link sitting before him on his bed.

“Come here, honey,” Link coos, and his arms close around Rhett. Link rubs his back, his face pressed to Link’s chest, and he tells Rhett he’s sorry. He’s okay. It’s all right, he’s okay, and he’s so, so sorry. He’s steady until Rhett chokes on nothing, asking him with a crack in his voice who is going to be there to hand him away at their wedding. Link breaks the moment Rhett does, barking a laugh that’s more a sob than a chuckle, and he presses wet kisses to Rhett’s cheeks as best he can. 

“She’ll be there for you,” he tells Rhett, hands soft. “Don’t worry, honey, you know she wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

“I know,” Rhett replies. He doesn’t know, he really doesn’t, but he chooses to believe Link. What else can he do?

 

Rhett hasn’t visited Stevie once since she was buried. He makes his first venture outside of the house a visit to the cemetery. He hurts and he moves a lot slower than he wants, wincing as Link helps him into his coat. His back aches, his bruised ribs burning, and Link does up the buttons on his coat for him. It’s the first week of February and already it’s a bit warmer outside, the promise of a short winter in the air. Still Link insists Rhett has a fever when he presses one hand to Rhett’s forehead and he makes him wear his winter coat.

“Everything feels hot to you,” Rhett grumbles, and Link presses a sweet little kiss to the corner of Rhett’s mouth. He’s an expert by now at making Rhett tingle without even trying. 

“Are you going to be all right?” Link asks, giving Rhett a once over to make sure his wool scarf is pulled close enough to his throat. 

“I dunno,” he replies. “You?”

“Yes, honey. I’ll be okay. I love you.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Link echoes, eyes opening wide is disbelief. “Are you really asking me?” 

“Forget it,” Rhett says, and he brushes past Link to head towards the door. He wants to see Stevie; he wants to talk to her. But he wants this to be over. He wants to get it done and pretend it didn’t happen; as long as he pretends it’s not real he’ll be okay. It’s not healthy and he knows it but it’s all he’s ready to do. 

Link catches him by the elbow and reels Rhett back to him.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, “the most gorgeous man on the west coast. In the country. In the world.”

“So it’s just my looks?” Rhett asks, Link tugging him closer, pressing his body flush to Rhett’s chest. 

“You’re brave. You’re selfless and smart and giving and so, so warm.”

“Stop,” Rhett says, and he does. But he rises on his toes to kiss Rhett, to capture his lips. No matter how much Rhett assures himself he’s going to get better at this, at accepting the love he’s given, he always proves himself wrong. But it’s okay. It’s all right. Link pulls away and he takes Rhett’s hand and he pulls Rhett towards the door. 

“I love you,” Link says half a dozen times before they’re even out of the building, the mid-morning sun bearing down on them. Rhett only has the strength to say it back once but Link understands. Rhett squeezes his fingers and he gets the message. 

Stevie is buried close to her house, close to Rhett, and he should have visited sooner. He knows he should have. But it’s a short walk now, shorter than he would like, and Link squeezes his hand tight as he starts to slow down. 

“Do you want to try a different day?” he asks, but Rhett shakes his head. It’s beautiful out here today and it’s just as good a day as any other. He needs to see her. There are a lot of things to tell her. And it might as well be today. They pass the iron gates of the cemetery and they walk together down the dirt path. Link seems to know exactly where to go and Rhett doesn’t like the thought of him being here alone. He can understand it. He can. But he wishes Link would have invited Rhett along.

He would have refused so he guesses he can’t fault Link for not trying. 

“Here, honey,” Link says, and he takes the lead as they wind to the left. She’s in the middle of the cemetery, in a beautiful spot between a massive stone angel and a weeping willow tree. Her stone is small, low to the ground, but there are roses and carnations bundled up in tissue paper laid beside it. 

“Are these from you?” Rhett asks. Link nods. He disentangles his hand from Link’s and Link stands behind Rhett as he sinks to the ground. This is it. Now it’s real. His best friend is right here in the dirt and this is as close as Rhett is going to get to her for the rest of his life. 

“Doesn’t really seem fair,” he says, and Link doesn’t ask him to clarify. He knows Rhett so well it should be terrifying. It would terrify the Rhett that had Stevie. But now he’s not so scared. It feels good to have Link at his side, at his back, standing to block the sun from hitting him.

It’s easier than he thought it would be to start to talk. 

“Stevie,” he says, and he’s not going to cry here. “Stevie, you’re not going to believe what I’ve got to tell you.” He tells her about what they did in the city. He knows she would be angry with him for going after the vampires. But he tells her anyway. He can even imagine the face she would make when he came back half alive. She would be furious; she would call him every name under the sun and then she would tell him she loved him. She wouldn’t know whether to kiss him or kill him herself. 

He tells her he’s moving in with Link. “God, I wish you were here to see it. You wouldn’t believe it even as you watched it happen. I’m moving into his place and it’s…wow. Stevie, it’s going to be our place.” He thanks her for her Christmas gift to him, telling her it was the best thing he could have ever asked for. “I’m real sorry for what I did to yours. I should have given it to someone else. Someone who could really use it. That’s what you would have done, yeah?” 

He tells her Link asked Rhett to marry him. “I said yes,” he tells her, “even though he won’t give me my ring. I can’t wait much longer and I might have to find someone else to marry if he doesn’t hurry up.” Link chuckles behind Rhett and tries to stifle it. Rhett tells him he doesn’t have to. Stevie wouldn’t mind him listening in and sharing some thoughts.

“Thank you for being there for him,” Link says to Rhett’s best friend, speaking not to the dirt but to the cloudless sky. Rhett couldn’t be more grateful for the gesture. He helps Rhett to his feet so he can do the same. They stand side by side with their faces tilted to the sky and Rhett finishes up telling her all the things she’s missed. And all the ways in which she’s missed. 

“Anyway, Stevie, I love you,” he says. “I’m sorry it’s my first time being here. It won’t be the last.” He doesn’t cry, he won’t cry here, and Link slides an arm around his middle. “I’ll be thinking of you,” he says. “I have to get back to work, Stevie; we’re doing Grease. I wish you were here to see it. It’s going to be the best show yet.”

He tells her goodbye and he doesn’t cry until they’re past the gate, far beyond where she lies. Link holds him until he quiets and then he holds Rhett for a while longer.

“She heard it all, honey,” he assures Rhett. “I just know it.” 

After all he’s seen in the days since Rhett has met Link, since he lost Stevie, he believes him.

 

Rhett leaves his apartment behind and he moves in with Link a few days before he has to return to school. Link and Rhett head down to the lobby of Rhett’s building for the last time with keys in hand. Rhett presses the keys into a slot in the door of the landlord’s office along with the money and a note of apology for the broken windows and all the hassle with the blood and the news reporters and the police. After that he does not look back as he walks away. Out on the sidewalk they run into Lizzie, the smile on her face as she sees them brighter than the sun high above them. 

“Leaving?” she asks, and she throws her arms around Rhett.

“I’ll just be across town,” he says as she hugs him like she’s trying to pop his head off his body. 

“Don’t forget about me,” she replies anyway.

“I couldn’t ever,” he tells her. He’s seen her in short bursts since their return from the city, a hello and a quick checkup now and then, but Rhett feels like this is the first time. “Thank you,” he says, and she nods like it’s nothing. “I wouldn’t be alive without you.” He’s not just talking about the night they went to Erzebet and she knows it, her smile widening. 

“No way,” she agrees, jabbing Rhett on the arm with one tiny fist. “I’ve saved your ass more times than I can count. When is it my turn?”

“Whenever you need me, Liz,” Rhett says. “Trust me, I’ll be there.” It’s all he can offer but she is satisfied. She looks up at the apartment building at Rhett’s back, smiling wide, chin tilted up towards the tenth floor. And she tells him he can finally be free to go. 

“Fly away, baby bird,” she teases, and she hops up on her tiptoes to kiss Rhett’s cheek. 

“Don’t act like I’m leaving you forever,” he replies, and she beams.

“I know you’re not,” she says. “I’m just making sure you know that you’re free. Not just from this place. But from everything in here. The memories. You know what I mean?”

“I think I do.” 

Link and Rhett head to Link’s place with the last of Rhett’s things and every part of him cries out in pain by the time he’s done unpacking and sorting. His toothbrush sits in a cup right next to Link’s and his work shirts are hung in the closet with Link’s leather jacket. Rhett’s Chucks are by the door right next to Link’s scuff free leather boots. Rhett’s coat and his scarf hang right beside Link’s. 

This is Rhett’s home now just as much as it is Link’s. He takes a deep breath and regrets it right away, pain flaring up in the center of his back, and Link is careful as he lays Rhett down on his bed. 

 

“Tell me where it hurts,” Link says, and Rhett points first to his mouth. Link is quick to kiss him and to pull back and kiss him again. “Where else?” he asks, and he spends the rest of the night kissing and rubbing away the aches and pains in Rhett’s body. He plants kisses across Rhett’s bruised chest and he rubs away the soreness in his thighs, cold hands sending goose bumps flying down Rhett’s spine. 

“I love you,” he tells Rhett, and he Link finds his way slowly back to Rhett’s lips. 

“And I love you.” Link’s hands are cold but they make Rhett feel warm, warmer than he would have thought he could ever feel again. He loses count of how many times Link tells Rhett he loves him at thirty-four, and he wishes he had kept track since the very first time. 

No matter how many times he hears it he never gets tired of it. Rhett lies in Link’s arms and Link cradles Rhett to his chest. It’s easy to believe maybe Link was made for him. 

 

Time goes by too fast, slipping away like a dream, and Rhett finally gets back to work. He gets back to rehearsals and they have no time at all, only eight weeks until Grease. Link joins him at rehearsal and it’s good to be back, a welcome change from the weeks spent thinking too deeply and for too long. The kids are more enthusiastic than ever, beside themselves with excitement. On a Friday, the second Friday Rhett’s had since returning to school, the kids are so giddy he has to stop himself from shouting. Link sits in the audience with his hands laced together and he doesn’t intervene, not even when Ian makes a paper airplane that hits Adam straight in the eye. Amelia fawns over him, getting ice from her water bottle backstage to press to his eye, and Rhett sinks into his seat beside Link.

“What am I going to do with them?” he asks.

“The same thing you always do,” Link says. “You’re going to yell at them and tell them they’re going to drive you to drink and you are going to love them.”

“You know me too well,” Rhett says, making Link laugh. The kids don’t have time to be messing around but Rhett grants it to them; he owes them a lot more than he can ever give and he can give them this. He asks them to try and organize themselves a bit so they can at least practice _Summer Nights_ before getting out of here and they scramble to obey. It’s their favorite part and the only part Rhett can always get them to practice. At least one song will be down pat by mid-May. They can always just do the one song and hope no one knows the difference. 

The kids climb up onto the bleachers in the center of the stage, clambering over one another to get into place, and Robbie already stands at the top with a comb in one hand. He brushes back his hair, slicking it down with spit, and Rhett doesn’t tell him to stop being so gross until he spits on the comb and uses it on Adam, too. 

“He doesn’t mind!” Robbie assures Rhett. “It saves the school money on hair gel! What can I say?” He shrugs and Rhett has no reply to that. Robbie has his own twisted brand of logic and Rhett’s going to let him keep on using it. Amelia waits with her hands behind her back, bobbing up and down on her heels, but she’s not looking at Rhett for directions. She’s looking at Link. 

“Are you ready, Link?” she asks, and Heather dashes to Amelia’s side. She has her hands balled into fists tucked under her chin, bouncing just as much as Amelia. 

“Yeah, Link!” Heather says. “Are you?” 

“I think so,” Link says, and the kids all lean forward at once, grinning like they share the biggest secret in the world. Link turns to Rhett and he says, “I know this is probably the corniest thing I have ever done. Ever. But just hear me out, honey. Okay?”

“Uh,” Rhett says, eying the kids. They give him nothing. Not a hint. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” Link rises out of his seat at Rhett’s side, slipping one hand into his pocket, and he gets down on the dirty auditorium floor on one knee. 

“No,” Rhett breathes, and he claps his hands to his face as Link opens up his fingers. There’s a tiny velvet boxed perched in his palm and Rhett’s been waiting, he’s been _dying_ waiting, and finally it’s real. It’s happening. Link wants him and he wants him forever.

“Rhett McLaughlin,” Link says, drawing it out nice and slow. “Will you marry me?” He pops open the box in his hand and the ring nestled inside is the most beautiful thing Rhett has ever seen. It’s a thick band in soft pink rose gold, a tiny diamond in the center. Link picks it out of the box and he holds it out to Rhett between his thumb and his finger, letting it catch the light. “What do you say?” he asks. 

The kids wait with bated breath like there’s any way in hell this would end in anything but a yes. 

Rhett holds his hand out and Link slips the ring onto his finger, right beside the gold band he gifted Rhett as a promise of this. 

“Yeah,” Rhett says. “Yes, I will.” 

The kids erupt into cheers, screaming and leaping off the stage like rabbits. They throw their arms around Link as he clambers to his feet, holding him tight enough to make him gasp for air. They are gentler with Rhett, squeezing his hands and fighting for a closer look at the ring. 

“Did you pick it yourself, Link?” Amelia asks, and she shrieks when he nods under a half nelson from Robbie. “You did so well!” she cries. “It’s amazing! This is amazing!” She hops up and down, beside herself like she had no idea this was coming, and Rhett lets the kids fuss over him far longer than he should. It feels better than he would have thought, the outpouring of love and joy, and Amelia asks if they are invited to the wedding.

“Of course,” Rhett says. “Like I could ever get married without you waiting in the audience to scream your head off at me.” He gives her a squeeze and she laughs, bouncing up and down with Heather as they start shouting about what they’re going to wear. 

It’s a long time before Rhett gets back to Link. Link catches Rhett’s sleeve and reels him in, spinning Rhett close to his body, and when he kisses Rhett the whole class cheers. 

It’s all good. It’s all great. 

 

Rhett lets the kids go home and they go reluctantly, the girls taking Rhett’s hand to get another glance at his ring, and each and every one of Rhett’s cast members drags their feet by the door. 

“I’m not going anywhere, guys,” he assures them. “I promise.”

“We can’t help being excited, Mr. M.,” Robbie says as he hovers by the door. “We have a lot to be happy about.” He pauses, waving goodbye to a few of the cast members as they get into their cars. “Feels strange, doesn’t it? Nothing to worry about. Everything back to normal. It feels almost…I don’t know. Wrong?”

“I know what you mean,” Rhett says. “Just try not see the lack of murderous vampires as a bad thing, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Robbie says, his hair flopping over one eye as he shakes it out. “Listen,” he goes on. “Thank you. Just thank you for…well, for everything you do.”

“Of course, Rob,” Rhett says. “And thank you to you, too.” He leaves out the part where he’s blessed to have these kids in his life; now isn’t the time to go all mushy and warm. Maybe opening night it will come spilling out from him but for now he manages to keep it in check. 

Robbie heads out the door and Heather and Amelia ambush Rhett, hugging him as gingerly as they can on their way out the door. 

“I’ll see you later,” he says like they’ve forgotten, like they think they won’t see him again. 

“I know,” Amelia says. “I’m just making sure you don’t forget how much you’re loved.” 

“It’s a lot,” Heather adds, and Rhett watches them dance together, overexcited and happy, towards their cars. Adam and Ian say goodbye with a little less hugging and a lot more _ums_ and _ahs_ , but Rhett gets the message just the same. 

“Have a good night, guys!” he says. “See you soon!” 

He has to stand in the auditorium and wipe his eyes for a minute before he’s ready to head home. He locks up and jiggles the handle just to make sure. Link gets him into the DeLorean, buckling him up and kissing him hard, and Link drives them home. 

It was a slow change, a long ride, but Rhett thinks he’s going to get used to the idea of sharing a life with someone. 

Link scoops Rhett out of the car and carries him to the front door, not putting Rhett down until they get to their bed. 

“What do you think?” Link asks, throwing the covers over their heads. The world goes dark and Rhett waits for his eyes to adjust to reply. Once he can see Link’s eyes in the dark Rhett asks him what he means. “Would you like to be Rhett Neal or do you prefer Link McLaughlin?” 

Rhett pauses. Link kisses him in the dark, his arm curled around Rhett’s middle, and he waits for Rhett to find an answer. Finally Rhett comes up with something and it’s enough to make Link laugh. 

“We could always hyphenate,” Rhett says. “But for now I’ll just settle for being called _yours_.” 

“You’re a miracle, Rhett,” Link tells him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rhett replies. Rhett kisses him and Link kisses back, the air warm and still in their own tiny world. And it’s strange, the way things turned out, and Rhett has a feeling it’s only going to get stranger. At least he has Link by his side to help him figure it all out. 

“What are we going to do if someone comes for us?” Rhett asks, and Link smiles against his mouth as he slides a hand up Rhett’s shirt. 

“We’re going to fight them with everything we have,” Link says.

“And are we going to win?” Rhett asks.

“Every time,” Link says.

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s a promise.”

“Good,” Rhett says, and that’s it.

It’s good. It’s all good. 

 

_THE END_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the love and support you all have given me. i'm sad to see this story come to an end but it was more fun than i could have ever imagined. 
> 
> a massive, massive thank you to the amazing [brainmelon](http://brainmelon.tumblr.com/) for always catching me on my typos and for always encouraging me to improve. 
> 
> i can always be reached [on tumblr](http://reedytenors.tumblr.com/) for anything at all! i have big things planned and i dont plan on going anywhere anytime soon. i hope all of you will be there with me <3

**Author's Note:**

> This got.....a little out of hand. At 140K words, this beast needs a little chaptering. 13 chapters and four frantic weeks of typing later, here is chapter one a little bit early. 
> 
> Featuring a cast of original characters, a fictional suburb just outside of LA, a fictional high school, and....well, you'll find out. Thank you for reading!


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